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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

"St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England"

A wheel couldn't sound in the
avenue but what I was at the window! I've had a many
disappointments; but to-night, as soon as you stepped out of the
shay, I knew it was my--it was you. Oh, you had been expected!
Why, when I go down to supper, I'll be the 'ero of the servants'
'all: the 'ole of the staff is that curious!'
'Well,' said I, 'I hope you may be able to give a fair account of
me--sober, steady, industrious, good-tempered, and with a first-
rate character from my last place?'
He laughed an embarrassed laugh. 'Your hair curls beautiful,' he
said, by way of changing the subject. 'The Viscount's the boy for
curls, though; and the richness of it is, Mr. Powl tells me his
don't curl no more than that much twine--by nature. Gettin' old,
the Viscount is. He 'AVE gone the pace, 'aven't 'e, sir?'
'The fact is,' said I, 'that I know very little about him. Our
family has been much divided, and I have been a soldier from a
child.'
'A soldier, Mr. Anne, sir?' cried Rowley, with a sudden feverish
animation. 'Was you ever wounded?'
It is contrary to my principles to discourage admiration for
myself; and, slipping back the shoulder of the dressing-gown, I
silently exhibited the scar which I had received in Edinburgh
Castle. He looked at it with awe.
'Ah, well!' he continued, 'there's where the difference comes in!
It's in the training.


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