What Ho!
You toss and turn for several fitful hours, then are prodded awake by a shaft of bright sunlight through the window.
There are times in a man's life which call for inclement weather. Certainly, this day is a day for black stormclouds and howling rain. But nobody told the bally sun which is thoughtlessly shining in the bally blue sky while the bally idiot birds chirp happily, without any consideration whatsoever about your plight.
You are betrothed to Cuddy. A spasm goes through your body as you consider this.
You are beginning to reflect that that German fellow, Neechee something, might just have the right of it. God, if not gone onto better things, then at least hasn't been looking in on his secretary to get his messages from Peter Postletwaite.
Timpson appears at your bedside. You suspect he knows all from the gentle way he socks your foot for you.
"Which as, his Worship ought to have been downstairs a good half hour ago. So SHE tells me, she does. I'm not your slave, you know."
"I never said you were" you say, puzzled.
"B------ breakfast is no doubt D----- cold by now, but what does anyone care?" he says sulkily. "Not that shirt, sir"
You rather like your salmon pink shirt, but he has a point. It's a day for sombre colors.
There are times in a man's life which call for inclement weather. Certainly, this day is a day for black stormclouds and howling rain. But nobody told the bally sun which is thoughtlessly shining in the bally blue sky while the bally idiot birds chirp happily, without any consideration whatsoever about your plight.
You are betrothed to Cuddy. A spasm goes through your body as you consider this.
You are beginning to reflect that that German fellow, Neechee something, might just have the right of it. God, if not gone onto better things, then at least hasn't been looking in on his secretary to get his messages from Peter Postletwaite.
Timpson appears at your bedside. You suspect he knows all from the gentle way he socks your foot for you.
"Which as, his Worship ought to have been downstairs a good half hour ago. So SHE tells me, she does. I'm not your slave, you know."
"I never said you were" you say, puzzled.
"B------ breakfast is no doubt D----- cold by now, but what does anyone care?" he says sulkily. "Not that shirt, sir"
You rather like your salmon pink shirt, but he has a point. It's a day for sombre colors.