Twelve Stories and A Dream

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C. Scribner's Sons, 1909

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Page 73 - Confound his suspicion! If I wanted to tell on him I should have told long ago. I don't tell and I don't tell, and he ought to feel at his ease. As if anything so gross and fat as he could feel at ease! Who would believe me if I did tell? Poor old Pyecraft! Great, uneasy jelly of substance! The fattest clubman in London. He sits at one of the little club tables in the huge bay by the fire, stuffing. What is he stuffing? I glance judiciously and catch him biting at a round of hot buttered teacake,...
Page 81 - Locked in?" "Locked himself in yesterday morning and 'asn't let any one in since, sir. And ever and again SWEARING. Oh, my!" I stared at the door she indicated by her glances. "In there?" I said. "Yes, sir." "What's up?" She shook her head sadly, '"E keeps on calling for vittles, sir. 'EAVY vittles 'e wants. I get 'im what I can. Pork 'e's 'ad, sooit puddin', sossiges, noo bread. Everythink like that. Left outside, if you please, and me go away. 'E's eatin', sir, somethink AWFUL.
Page 82 - she's gone." But for a long time the door didn't open. I heard the key turn. Then Pyecraft's voice said, " Come in." I turned the handle and opened the door. Naturally I expected to see Pyecraft. Well, you know, he wasn't there! I never had such a shock in my life. There was his sitting-room in a state of untidy disorder, plates and dishes among the books and writing things, and several chairs overturned, but Pyecraft " It's all right, o' man ; shut the door," he said, and then I discovered him.
Page 128 - / know,' he repeated. Then he said, peevishly, 'I can't do it, if you look at me— I really can't; it's been that, partly, all along. I'm such a nervous fellow that you put me out.' Well, we had a bit of an argument. Naturally I wanted to see; but he was as obstinate as a mule, and suddenly I had come over as tired as a dog— he tired me out. 'All right,' I said, 7 won't look at you,' and turned towards the mirror, on the wardrobe, by the bed.
Page 117 - He meditated still more profoundly and produced and began to pierce a second cigar with a curious little stabber he affected. "You talked to it?" asked Wish. "For the space, probably, of an hour." "Chatty?" I said, joining the party of the sceptics. "The poor devil was in trouble," said Clayton, bowed over his cigar-end and with the very faintest note of reproof.
Page 123 - I began to realise just a little what a thundering rum and weird business it was that I was in. There he was, semi-transparent — the proper conventional phantom, and noiseless except for his ghost of a voice — flitting to and fro in that nice, clean, chintzhung old bedroom. You could see the gleam of the copper candlesticks through him, and the lights on the brass fender, and the corners of the framed engravings on the wall, and there he was telling me all about this wretched little life of his...
Page 83 - I'll tell you," he said, and gesticulated. "How the deuce," said I, "are you holding on up there?" And then abruptly I realised that he was not holding on at all, that he was floating up there — just as a gas-filled bladder might have floated in the same position. He began a struggle to thrust himself away from the ceiling and to clamber down the wall to me. "It's that prescription," he panted, as he did so. "Your great-gran " He took hold of a framed engraving rather carelessly as he spoke and...
Page 86 - You called it, not Fat, which is just and inglorious, but Weight. You " He interrupted to say that he recognised all that. What was he to do? I suggested he should adapt himself to his new conditions. So we came to the really sensible part of the business. I suggested that it would not be difficult for him to learn to walk about on the ceiling with his hands "I can't sleep,
Page 75 - I could never go into the smoking-room but he would come wallowing towards me, and sometimes he came and gormandised round and about me while I had my lunch. He seemed at times almost to be clinging to me. He was a bore, but not so fearful a bore as to be limited to me; and from the first there was something in his manner — almost as though he knew, almost as though he penetrated to the fact that I might — that there was a remote, exceptional chance in me that no one else presented. "I'd give...
Page 134 - I came out of a muddled stupefaction to find myself kneeling beside him, and his vest and shirt were torn open, and Sanderson's hand lay on his heart. . . . Well — the simple fact before us could very well wait our convenience; there was no hurry for us to comprehend. It lay there for an hour; it lies athwart my memory, black and amazing still, to this day. Clayton had, indeed, passed into the world that lies so near to and so far from our own, and he had gone thither by the only road that mortal...

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