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The Dark House

Chapter 8 No.8

Word Count: 1883    |    Released on: 30/11/2017

ting on the earth's surface, and of his accidental, no less pathetic progression as a Survival of the Fittest. He gathered that even more than old Jaegers, Mr. Ricardo hated God Almighty and J

nd insults. It seemed to Robert sometimes that even the multiplication table wa

untidy, stuffy boarding-house where he lived, and wrote feverishly. What he wrote Robert did not know. There was an air of mystery about the whole business, as thoug

fools in this world than you could conceive possible. Thank your stars

al about Christine

de," was one of his dark sayings, "t

l's progress, but he was oddly excited, and when Christine invited him to share their meal-surely he could have seen there wasn't enough to go round, Robert thought-he accepted with a transparent, childlike eagerness that made Robert stare at

up his sharp nose in a kind of nervous anguish. "I have here an article published last week-you are a bro

ight fell on her two hands. Red and misshapen as they were now, th

us, Mr. Ricardo? My ey

red his

letter to The Times, which you may have see

s and spires, which on the ruins of their dull selves seemed to be built anew into a witchlike fantastic city, would be lost to him for another night. Robert did not want to hear about God and the origin of man now. He kicked im

. "That, surely, settles the controversy. He

nd opened her eyes,

him and held it to the light, and Robert turned, hoping that now he would really go.

shrivel-to cower back into himself. His fierce, triumphant energy h

ion-the stronghold of the worst bigotry and prejudice-for myself I should not care-I have always wanted t

er gently as though she

sary. Why should one sacrifice oneself

ched hi

ght error, M

trying to find something that would comfort him-just as she had once given Robert peppermint b

her with dark

you, th

oment he wavered on the steps, blinking, and

oman-you must be worth

imped down the steps and along the street, flitti

he was cleverer than boys older than himself. He could do things at once over which they botched and bungled. He outstripped them when he chose. Even his ignorance did not handicap him for long. For Mr. Ricardo had kept his promise. He taught well, and in those long afternoons in the hot boarding-house attic Robert had raced over the lost ground. He did not always want to work. He gazed out of the window, half his mind busy planning what he and Rufus Cosgrave would do when they met at the corner of the street, but he could not

u understand,

ne to stand by yourself, especially when you had one friend who thought you splendid whatever you did, who clung to you, and whom you had to protect. When he walked arm in arm with Rufus Cosgrave in the playground he trailed his

the biscuit factory, and with arms clasped about their scarred and grubby knees planned out the vague but glorious time that waited for them. Rufus was to be a Civil Servant. He did not seem to care much for the pr

her play the piano. But, of course, I wouldn't say

'll always say what I want to and do what I jolly well like

e hate you," Ru

sn't matt

nd people not

her

mbled an

o play in the eleven-and the chaps cheered you

s together in the portentous Stonehouse scowl. "It's silly to mind what silly people think. And kicking goals is no good. I'm going to be a

sighed

as awfully miserable until you came. If you went away-or didn't care an

I wo

e so much

being st

rine of the Survival, and Rufus began to

What'll happen to me? Anyone can

eks, and a sudden choking tenderness, a dim perception of all that this one

se I'll look after yo

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