Echoes of the War |
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2nd Lieutenant astrakhan BARBARA'S WEDDING Billy boy Black Watch Blighty bull-trout called catch chair chiffon Colonel comes course cricket daresay Dering Dick Dick's door Dowey Dowey's Ellen Emma eyes face father feel fire fishing-rods funny gabardine garden glad goes gone Good-night Grace granny HAGGERTY WOMAN hand head hear heard ingle-nook J. M. Barrie John John Torrance jolly Karl Kenneth kissed knew laugh Laura letters look married mater mean medals MICKLEHAM mind Miss Barbara mister mother naiky neth never nice nurse Ockley old lady pail pantry paper Perhaps PETER AND WENDY PETER PAN play pretty proud remember Robert Roger Rogie sarcastic smile soldier speak stair suppose sure talk tell There's things thought to-day told TORRANCE trenches tries TWYMLEY veil WELL-REMEMBERED VOICE wife window winkle wonder word young
Popular passages
Page 63 - KENNETH'S death in action. It would be rosemary to us to see her in her black dress, of which she is very proud; but let us rather peep at her in the familiar garments that make a third to her mop and pail. It is early morning, and she is having a look at her medals before setting off on the daily round. They are in a drawer, with the scarf covering them, and on the scarf a piece of lavender. First, the black frock, which she carries in her arms like a baby. Then her War Savings Certificates, KENNETH'S...
Page 170 - She had got a wire. That isn't the joke, though. You see he got into a hopeless muddle about which side of the veil he had come out on ; and he went off with the other ones, and they wouldn't have him, and he got lost in the veil, running up and down it, calling to us; and just for the lark we didn't answer.
Page 167 - When I came to, the veil was so thin that I couldn't see it at all; and my first thought was, Which side of it have I come out on ? The living ones lying on the ground were asking that about themselves, too. There we were, all sitting up and asking whether we were alive or dead; and some were one, and some were the other. Sort of fluke, you know.
Page 166 - The dead? Funny how you jib at that word. Mr. Don: I suppose the veil is like a mist? Dick: The veil's a rummy thing, father. Yes, like a mist. But when one has been at the Front for a bit, you can't think how thin the veil seems to get; just one layer of it. I suppose it seems thin to you out there because one step takes you through it. We sometimes mix up those who have gone through with those who haven't. I dare say if I were to go back to my old battalion the living chaps would just nod to me.
Page 164 - You loved fishing, Dick. DICK. Didn't I? Why weren't you oftener with me? I '11 tell you a funny thing. When I went a-soldiering I used to pray — just standing up, you know — that I shouldn't lose my right arm, because it would be so awkward for casting.
Page 15 - Let's occasionally think of that. [She has gone too far. Chairs are pushed back.] THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. I ask you! MRS. MICKLEHAM. That's hardly language, Mrs. Dowey. MRS. DOWEY. [Scared.] Kindly excuse. I swear to death I'm none of your pacifists. MRS. MICKLEHAM. Freely granted. MRS. TWYMLEY. I've heard of females that have no male relations, and so they have no man-party at the wars. I've heard of them, but I don't mix with them.
Page 52 - Such a kind old bonnet that it makes you laugh at once ; I don't know how to describe it, but it is trimmed with a kiss, as bonnets should be when the wearer is old and frail.' Even the stage furniture oozes sentiment. It is doubtful if a single palpable object could be reconstructed from the words in Barrie's plays. It has still to be inquired how or why a writer of this kind became the recipient of public honours, affection, and the laudations of the literary experts, who...
Page 167 - ... never been in to stay, because, of course, one often popped in and out. MR. DON. Dick, the day that you DICK. My day? I don't remember being hit, you know. I don't remember anything till the quietness came. When you have been killed it suddenly becomes very quiet; quieter even than you have ever known it at home. Sunday used to be a pretty quiet day at my tutor's, when Trotter and I flattened out on the first shady spot up the river; but it is quieter than that. I am not boring you, am I? MR....
Page 157 - Father.' MR. DON looks into the greyness from which this voice comes, and he sees his son. We see no one, but we are to understand that, to MR. DON, DICK is standing there in his habit as he lived.