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Wells, H. G. (Herbert George), 1866-1946

"Tono Bungay"

The room was
white-panelled and chintz-curtained. About those two bright centres of
light were warm dark shadow, in which a circular mirror shone like a
pool of brown water. I carried off my raid by behaving like a slave of
etiquette. There were moments when I think I really made Lady Osprey
believe that my call was an unavoidable necessity, that it would have
been negligent of me not to call just how and when I did. But at the
best those were transitory moments.
They received me with disciplined amazement. Lady Osprey was interested
in my face and scrutinised the scar. Beatrice stood behind
her solicitude. Our eyes met, and in hers I could see startled
interrogations.
"I'm going," I said, "to the west coast of Africa."
They asked questions, but it suited my mood to be vague.
"We've interests there. It is urgent I should go. I don't know when I
may return."
After that I perceived Beatrice surveyed me steadily.
The conversation was rather difficult. I embarked upon lengthy thanks
for their kindness to me after my accident.


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