Torpenhow
didn't tell you?
Kipling - Poems
You've wit enough to manage the sale of it to a dealer.
Women haggle much better than men. It might be a matter of eight or nine
hundred pounds to--to us. I simply didn't like to think about it for
a long time. It was mixed up with my life so. --But we'll cover up
our tracks and get rid of everything, eh? Make a fresh start from the
beginning, Bess. "
Then she began to repent very much indeed, because she knew the value of
money. Still, it was probable that the blind man was overestimating the
value of his work. Gentlemen, she knew, were absurdly particular about
their things. She giggled as a nervous housemaid giggles when she tries
to explain the breakage of a pipe.
"I'm very sorry, but you remember I was--I was angry with you before Mr.
Torpenhow went away? "
"You were very angry, child; and on my word I think you had some right
to be. "
"Then I--but aren't you sure Mr.
Torpenhow didn't tell you? "
"Tell me what? Good gracious, what are you making such a fuss about when
you might just as well be giving me another kiss? "
He was beginning to learn, not for the first time in his experience,
that kissing is a cumulative poison. The more you get of it, the more
you want.
Bessie gave the kiss promptly, whispering, as she did so, "I was so
angry I rubbed out that picture with the turpentine. You aren't angry,
are you? "
"What? Say that again. " The man's hand had closed on her wrist.
"I rubbed it out with turps and the knife," faltered Bessie. "I thought
you'd only have to do it over again. You did do it over again, didn't
you? Oh, let go of my wrist; you're hurting me. "
"Isn't there anything left of the thing? "
"N'nothing that looks like anything.
Women haggle much better than men. It might be a matter of eight or nine
hundred pounds to--to us. I simply didn't like to think about it for
a long time. It was mixed up with my life so. --But we'll cover up
our tracks and get rid of everything, eh? Make a fresh start from the
beginning, Bess. "
Then she began to repent very much indeed, because she knew the value of
money. Still, it was probable that the blind man was overestimating the
value of his work. Gentlemen, she knew, were absurdly particular about
their things. She giggled as a nervous housemaid giggles when she tries
to explain the breakage of a pipe.
"I'm very sorry, but you remember I was--I was angry with you before Mr.
Torpenhow went away? "
"You were very angry, child; and on my word I think you had some right
to be. "
"Then I--but aren't you sure Mr.
Torpenhow didn't tell you? "
"Tell me what? Good gracious, what are you making such a fuss about when
you might just as well be giving me another kiss? "
He was beginning to learn, not for the first time in his experience,
that kissing is a cumulative poison. The more you get of it, the more
you want.
Bessie gave the kiss promptly, whispering, as she did so, "I was so
angry I rubbed out that picture with the turpentine. You aren't angry,
are you? "
"What? Say that again. " The man's hand had closed on her wrist.
"I rubbed it out with turps and the knife," faltered Bessie. "I thought
you'd only have to do it over again. You did do it over again, didn't
you? Oh, let go of my wrist; you're hurting me. "
"Isn't there anything left of the thing? "
"N'nothing that looks like anything.
