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Updated: June 23, 2025
From the flight-commander's bus I look back to see how the formation is shaping, and discover that we number but five, one machine having failed to start by reason of a dud engine. We circle the aerodrome, waiting for a sixth bus, but nobody is sent to join us. The "Carry on" signal shows up from the ground, and we head eastward. After climbing another fifteen hundred feet, we enter the clouds.
Every morning at nine o'clock Robert walked with Christine to the corner of the road, and a jolly, red-faced 'bus, rollicking through the neighbourhood like a slightly intoxicated reveller who has landed by mistake in a gathering of Decayed Gentlefolk, carried her off citywards, and at dusk returned her again, grey and worn, with wisps of tired brown hair hanging about her face and bundles of solemn letters and folded parchment documents bulging from her dispatch-case.
A 'bus drove up as he reached the corner, and he climbed into it. "I'll come again to-morrow," he said, "and try and find her. She'll have to listen to me. I'm really in love this time!" He had been provided with a latch-key before leaving Miss Squibb's house in the morning, and, with an air of responsibility, he let himself in.
The conductor of the bus made a suggestion then, one that froze the blood round Sara Lee's heart: "If you'll move away and let us run over it proper it'll be out of its trouble, miss." Sara Lee raised haggard eyes to Henri. "Did you hear that?" she said. "They'd do it too!" The total result of a conference between four policemen, the costermonger, and, by that time, Mr.
I know you'd like to be my partner, now wouldn't you? Don't be shy, but say yes." And he jumped on the bus, and I saw his ugly face leering at me with a wicked smile to think how he'd had the last word of plaguing. Margaret was made very uncomfortable by this account of Dixon's. 'Have you told Frederick? asked she. 'No, said Dixon.
In a main road he might hope to create the illusion that he was merely running for a bus. But in these obscure aristocratic byways he could not but feel that an officious policeman might stop him to explain matters. At this juncture in his thoughts a taxi with flag erect turned the corner of the street ahead. Tommy held his breath. Would they hail it?
I had no king, and my country had seen fit not to need me, but still that pointing finger made me feel small and ill at ease. I got off the bus to try to dissipate this feeling by mixing with the throng of the sidewalks. Presently I came to a recruiting office. Inside, sitting at a desk was a lonely Tommy Atkins. I decided to interview him in regard to joining the British Army. I opened the door.
I will wait about in the rain for an hour, and 'bus after 'bus shall pass, but I will not be beat. I WILL have a place, and get it at length, with my boots wet through, and an umbrella dripping between my legs. I have a rheumatism, a cold, a sore throat, a sulky evening, a doctor's bill to-morrow perhaps? Yes, but I have won my game, and am gainer of a shilling on this rubber.
They seem reduced to the condition of the wooden cabs the mere vehicles pulled along by the irresistible horse Circumstance. They shut their eyes mentally, wrap themselves in the overcoat of indifference, and drive on, drive on. It is time to get out at last. The 'bus stops on one side of the street, and you have to cross to the other.
He was nearly run over in crossing one of the thoroughfares, and heard an outburst of profanity directed at him from a cab-driver and a man on a bus; but he heeded them not, walking through the crowd as if under a spell. He passed the door of his own gorgeous office, and walked some distance up the street before he realized what he had done.
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