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The Altar Steps

Chapter 9 SLOWBRIDGE

Word Count: 1589    |    Released on: 30/11/2017

arge; a swart complexion, prominent cheek-bones, and straight lank hair gave him a melancholic aspect, the impression of which remained with the ob

like a pack of hounds in full cry, would as it were pursue the tale to its death, and communicate its zest

she would rub her forehead with an acorn of menthol and wrap herself more closely in a shawl of soft Shetland wool. The antipathy that formerly existed between Mark and his father was much sharper between Mark and his uncle. It was born in the insta

going to be?" Un

thouse-

oung. I remember that for nearly a year I intende

upon which that dislike should henceforth be concentrated. Uncle Henry's pulse seemed to express all the vitality that

ut in grates during the summer; her caps were like lace curtains tied back with velvet ribbons; cameos leant against her bosom as if they were upon a mantelpiece. Mark never overcame his dislike of kissing Aunt Helen, for it gave him a sensation every time that a bit of her might stick to his lips. He lacked that solemn sense of relationship with which most children are imbued, and the compulsory intimacy offended him, particularly when his aunt referred to little boys generically as if they were beetles or mice. Her inability to appreciate that he was Mark outraged his young sense of per

's Preparatory School for the Sons of Gentlemen, that he enjoyed Slowbridge with its fogs and laburnums, its perambulators and tradesmen's carts and

funeral without even waiting to change out of his best clothes began to play with soldiers in

y with soldiers when Aunt

y, "I shall work at my

h the answer; yet something in the boy's tone, some dreadful suppressed exu

en suggested, "wouldn't it be more becoming now to work harder

on on his mother's face, every slight intonation of her voice when she was able to share in his game; he hated his uncle and aunt so profoundly

local tradesmen, who left when they were about fourteen, though a certain number lingered on until they were as much as sixteen in what was called the Modern Class, where they were supposed to receive at least as practical an education as they would have received behind the counter, and certainly a more genteel one. Fine fellows those were in the Modern Class at Haverton House, stalwart heroes who made up the cricket and football teams and strode about th

es, and Kings of Israel and Judah. Neither Uncle Henry nor his assistants Mr. Spaull and Mr. Palmer believed in departing from the book. Whatever books were chosen for the term's curriculum were regarded as something for which money had been paid and from which the last drop of information must be squeezed to justify in the eyes of parents the expenditure. The teachers considered the n

eman Joe; but they were careful not to let Mr. Palmer hear them, for he had a punch and did not believe in cuddling the young. He used to jeer openly at his colleague, Mr. Spaull, who never played football, never did anything in the way of exercise except wrestle flirtatiously with the boys, w

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