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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

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


'Well, sir,' said he, 'we are well out of that! Did ever any one
see such a pack of young barbarians?'
'We are properly punished, Mr. Byfield; we had no business there,'
I replied.
'No, indeed, sir, you may well say that! Outrageous! And my
ascension announced for Friday, you know!' cried the aeronaut. 'A
pretty scandal! Byfield the aeronaut at the police-court! Tut-
tut! Will you be able to get your rascal home, sir? Allow me to
offer you my card. I am staying at Walker and Poole's Hotel, sir,
where I should be pleased to see you.'
'The pleasure would be mutual, sir,' said I, but I must say my
heart was not in my words, and as I watched Mr. Byfield departing I
desired nothing less than to pursue the acquaintance
One more ordeal remained for me to pass. I carried my senseless
load upstairs to our lodging, and was admitted by the landlady in a
tall white nightcap and with an expression singularly grim. She
lighted us into the sitting-room; where, when I had seated Rowley
in a chair, she dropped me a cast-iron courtesy. I smelt gunpowder
on the woman. Her voice, tottered with emotion.
'I give ye nottice, Mr. Ducie,' said she. 'Dacent folks' houses .
. .'
And at that apparently temper cut off her utterance, and she took
herself off without more words.


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