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

"Tono Bungay"

This was Life! It came to me
like a revelation, a revelation at once incredible and indisputable of
the abysmal folly of our being.
III
I was roused from such thoughts by the sound of footsteps behind me.
I turned half hopeful--so foolish is a lover's imagination, and stopped
amazed. It was my uncle. His face was white--white as I had seen it in
my dream.
"Hullo!" I said, and stared. "Why aren't you in London?"
"It's all up," he said....
"Adjudicated?"
"No!"
I stared at him for a moment, and then got off the stile.
We stood swaying and then came forward with a weak motion of his arms
like a man who cannot see distinctly, and caught at and leant upon the
stile. For a moment we were absolutely still. He made a clumsy gesture
towards the great futility below and choked. I discovered that his face
was wet with tears, that his wet glasses blinded him. He put up his
little fat hand and clawed them off clumsily, felt inefficiently for his
pocket-handkerchief, and then, to my horror, as he clung to me, he
began to weep aloud, this little, old worldworn swindler.


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