Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 24, 2025
Later, I remembered this fellow and looking round the lobby, saw him in a corner, apparently concealing something about his person. So I spoke to you about it." P. Sybarite's face settled into grim lines. "Shaynon," he said slowly, without visible temper, "this won't get you anything but trouble. Remember that, when I come to pay you out unless you'll have the grace to retract here and now."
Of two tables between it and P. Sybarite's, one was vacant, the other occupied by a brace of hatchet-faced male intimates of the dive and creatures of November's or their looks libelled them shamefully. It seemed unlikely that the boy could get away against the wishes of the gang leader, however steadfastly he might stand upon his determination to drink no more.
I'm goin' sit here till these ah foolish legs 'mine straighten 'emselves out then 'm going home." ... "Here's your beer, bo'," P. Sybarite's waiter announced. "Keep the change," said the guest, tendering a quarter. "T'anks" with a look of surprise. Then familiarly knuckling the top of the table, the waiter stroked a rusty chin and surveyed the room. "There's Red, now," he observed. "Where?"
Of the latter, one was that very young man who had been responsible for P. Sybarite's change of mind with regard to going home. With a bored air this prodigal was frittering away five-dollar notes on the colours, the columns, and the dozens: his ill success stupendous, his apparent indifference positively magnificent.
Interpreting the level challenge of her glance, P. Sybarite's heart quaked, his soul curdled, his stomach for picaresque adventure failed him entirely: anatomically, in short, he was hopelessly disqualified for his chosen rôle of favourite of Kismet, protagonist of this Day of Days.
The colour deepened in P. Sybarite's cheeks, and instantaneous pin-pricks of fire enlivened his long-suffering eyes. But again he said nothing. And since his eyes were downcast, George was unaware of their fitful incandescence. Puffing vigorously at his cigarette, he rocked back and forth on the hind legs of his chair and crowed in jubilation: "Perceval! O you great, big, beautiful Perc'!"
And suddenly the fifty-cent tip previously bestowed upon the servitor seemed, to one unexpectedly fallen heir to the princely fortune then in P. Sybarite's pockets, the very nadir of beggarliness. "Pete," said he with owlish gravity, "I begin to see that I have done you an inexcusable injustice." Giggling, the negro scratched his head.
With but one thought, he hurled on, swung round to the head of the stairs, saw his man at the bottom, pulled up to aim, and.... Beneath him a small rug slipped on polished parquetry of the landing. P. Sybarite's heels went up and his head down with a sickening thump. He heard his pistol explode once more, and again visioned a reeling firmament fugitively coruscant with strange constellations.
"And after dinner," P. Sybarite pursued evenly, "you're going to attend a very quiet little wedding party." "Whose, for God's sake?" "Marian's and mine; and the only reason why you can't be best man is that the best man will be my cousin, Peter Kenny." "Is that straight?" "On the level." George concluded that there was sanity in P. Sybarite's eyes.
The believer judges Nature, well aware of the gulf between himself and her, hating with inexpressible depth of indignation and repudiating with profound contempt the sybarite's identification of human and natural law. But also he comes back to her, not to accept in wonder her variable outward form, but to worship in awe before her invariable inner meaning.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking