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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

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


At last, at the level of York Place, we parted with mutual
civilities, and I was free to pursue my way, through the mobs of
people returning from church, to my lodgings in St. James' Square.
Almost at the house door whom should I overtake but my landlady in
a dress of gorgeous severity, and dragging a prize in her wake: no
less than Rowley, with the cockade in his hat, and a smart pair of
tops to his boots! When I said he was in the lady's wake I spoke
but in metaphor. As a matter of fact he was squiring her, with the
utmost dignity, on his arm; and I followed them up the stairs,
smiling to myself.
Both were quick to salute me as soon as I was perceived, and Mrs.
McRankine inquired where I had been. I told her boastfully, giving
her the name of the church and the divine, and ignorantly supposing
I should have gained caste. But she soon opened my eyes. In the
roots of the Scottish character there are knots and contortions
that not only no stranger can understand, but no stranger can
follow; he walks among explosives; and his best course is to throw
himself upon their mercy--'Just as I am, without one plea,' a
citation from one of the lady's favourite hymns.
The sound she made was unmistakable in meaning, though it was
impossible to be written down; and I at once executed the manoeuvre
I have recommended.


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