PART Ⅳ-4

类别:文学名著 作者:乔治·奥威尔 本章:PART Ⅳ-4

    I drove back to te cup of tea. As it  open for anot out and strolled up in tion of the church.

    I  crossing t-place tle  I’d seen  feeling. I couldn’t see  tify and yet I could have sworn I knew her.

    S up treet and turned doreets to t, to  quite knoy, perly as a kind of precaution. My first t   last  almost at t it struck me t it  as likely t s Bletc case I’d o cep, because if s I o iously, keeping at a safe distance and examining riking about it. Sallistis y or fifty, in a rat on, as t slipped out of , and t   of a slut. And yet to identify, only t vague somet s, perly s to a little s and paper stle s al it anding in to a stand of postcards. My opped to pass time of day.

    I stopped too, as soon as I could find a send to be looking into. It or’s, full of samples of tings and time I  fifteen yards a ime of day. ‘Yes, t’s jest about it. t’s jest o  else do you expect?” I said. It don’t seem rig? But  as alk to a stone. It’s a sting  be one of ter all,  toers of ! It was Elsie!

    Yes, it  fat hag!

    It gave me suc, mind you, seeing Elsie, but seeing  for a moment t of my eyes. taps and ballstops and porcelain sinks and to fade ao tance, so t I bot see t I  s recognize me. But s made any sign. A moment more, and surned and  on. Again I follo  I   I just o

    sion on me. In a manner of speaking I’d been c I ce different eyes now.

    It  a kind of scientific kick out of studying ’s frig ty- four years can do to a y-four years, and te skin and red mouturned into t round-sed  made me feel doe so completely as t. I’m fat, I grant you. I’m t at least I’m A s even particularly fat, sly to , it  a kind of soft lumpy cylinder, like a bag of meal.

    I folloo of mean little streets I didn’t kno t in, it  outside tioner and tobacconist.’ So Elsie  tle sopped before, but smaller and a lot more flyblo seem to sell anyt tobacco and t kinds of ss. I  ake a minute or t in. I o brace my nerve up a little before I did it, because to be some hard lying if by any chance she recognized me.

    So t sapped on ter. So o face. A recognize me. Just looked at me t tomers—utter lack of interest.

    It  time I’d seen ed  gave me almost as big a s first moment  to be able to foresee ’ll look like ’s all a question of t if it o me, y and sy-to  forty-seven, it   s. t  type of middle-aged   like a bulldog? Great underurned do tly like a bulldog. And yet it  in a million.  completely grey, it y colour, and t to be. S kno a customer, a stranger, an uninteresting fat man. It’s queer  can do. I  s expecting to see me, or  of all—sten my existence.

    ‘Devening,’ s listless hey have.

    ‘I  a pipe,’ I said flatly. ‘A briar pipe.’

    ‘A pipe. No lemme see. I know we gossome pipes somewhere. Now where did I—ah! ‘Ere we are.’

    Sook a cardboard box full of pipes from some imagining t, because my oandards  no, so be so ‘superior’, all t Lily and pretended to look thpiece.

    ‘Amber? I don’t kno any—’ surned tohe shop and called: ‘Ge-orge!’

    So too. A noise t sounded somethe shop.

    ‘Ge-orge!  t other box of pipes?’

    George came in. outissleeves, rainer moustacive kind of ed in tea. tarted poking round in searc  five minutes before t to earttles of ss. It’s  of litter to accumulate in ttle sock is  fifty quid.

    I c among tter and mumbling to s of an old rying to describe to you . A kind of cold, deadly desolate feeling. You can’t conceive it unless you’ve . All I can say is, if to care about ty-five years ago, go and   I felt.

    But as a matter of fact, t t urn out from . times I’d s under tnut trees! ouldn’t you t er-effect be time , and  as mucrangers as t. As for  even recognize me. If I told  remember. And if s  even be angry because I’d done ty on  hing had never happened.

    And on t Elsie o go to t least one ot ’s safe to bet t  surprise me to learn t sogetreated ion about t, and many a time it reets, I used to tick imes I felt I’d been a bit of a bastard, but otimes I reflected (rue enoug if it  been me it less s? A damn sig t gone to to t ended up like everybody else, a fat old  a frotle saco call  a string of kids as ed and died lamented—and migcy-court, if she was lucky.

    t any hem.

    ‘I don’t kno any amber ones just at present, sir. Not amber. e gossome nice vulcanite ones.’

    ‘I ed an amber one,’ I said.

    ‘e gossome nice pipes ‘ere.’ S. ‘t’s a nice pipe, no one is.’

    I took it. Our fingers toucion. t remember. And I suppose you t t for old sake’s sake, to put . But not a bit of it. I didn’t  t smoke a pipe. I’d merely been making a pretext to come into turned it over in my fingers and t it doer.

    ‘Doesn’t matter, I’ll leave it,’ I said. ‘Give me a small Players’.’

    o buy someter all t fuss. George ted out a packet of Players’, still muncacea for not it seemed too damn silly to e  and t  I ever saw of Elsie.

    I  back to ter out o tures, if t instead I landed up in one of t of too a couple of caffordsravelling in  talking about tate of trade, and playing darts and drinking Guinness. By closing time t I o take taxi, and I  under t morning I han ever.


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