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- Джеймс Барри
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Zounds
,
madam
,
if
you
are
resolved
to
be
a
drooping
little
figure
till
you
die
,
you
might
at
least
do
it
in
another
street
.
Not
only
does
she
maliciously
depress
me
by
walking
past
on
ordinary
days
,
but
I
have
discovered
that
every
Thursday
from
two
to
three
she
stands
afar
off
,
gazing
hopelessly
at
the
romantic
post-office
where
she
and
he
shall
meet
no
more
.
In
these
windy
days
she
is
like
a
homeless
leaf
blown
about
by
passers-by
.
There
is
nothing
I
can
do
except
thunder
at
William
.
At
last
she
accomplished
her
unworthy
ambition
.
It
was
a
wet
Thursday
,
and
from
the
window
where
I
was
writing
letters
I
saw
the
forlorn
soul
taking
up
her
position
at
the
top
of
the
street
:
in
a
blast
of
fury
I
rose
with
the
one
letter
I
had
completed
,
meaning
to
write
the
others
in
my
chambers
.
She
had
driven
me
from
the
club
.
I
had
turned
out
of
Pall
Mall
into
a
side
street
,
when
whom
should
I
strike
against
but
her
false
swain
!
It
was
my
fault
,
but
I
hit
out
at
him
savagely
,
as
I
always
do
when
I
run
into
anyone
in
the
street
.
Then
I
looked
at
him
.
He
was
hollow-eyed
;
he
was
muddy
;
there
was
not
a
haw
left
in
him
.
I
never
saw
a
more
abject
young
man
;
he
had
not
even
the
spirit
to
resent
the
testy
stab
I
had
given
him
with
my
umbrella
.
But
this
is
the
important
thing
:
he
was
glaring
wistfully
at
the
post-office
and
thus
in
a
twink
I
saw
that
he
still
adored
my
little
governess
.
Whatever
had
been
their
quarrel
he
was
as
anxious
to
make
it
up
as
she
,
and
perhaps
he
had
been
here
every
Thursday
while
she
was
round
the
corner
in
Pall
Mall
,
each
watching
the
post-office
for
an
apparition
.
But
from
where
they
hovered
neither
could
see
the
other
.
I
think
what
I
did
was
quite
clever
.
I
dropped
my
letter
unseen
at
his
feet
,
and
sauntered
back
to
the
club
.
Of
course
,
a
gentleman
who
finds
a
letter
on
the
pavement
feels
bound
to
post
it
,
and
I
presumed
that
he
would
naturally
go
to
the
nearest
office
.
With
my
hat
on
I
strolled
to
the
smoking-room
window
,
and
was
just
in
time
to
see
him
posting
my
letter
across
the
way
.
Then
I
looked
for
the
little
nursery
governess
.
I
saw
her
as
woe-begone
as
ever
;
then
,
suddenly
--
oh
,
you
poor
little
soul
,
and
has
it
really
been
as
bad
as
that
!
She
was
crying
outright
,
and
he
was
holding
both
her
hands
.
It
was
a
disgraceful
exhibition
.
The
young
painter
would
evidently
explode
if
he
could
not
make
use
of
his
arms
.
She
must
die
if
she
could
not
lay
her
head
upon
his
breast
.
I
must
admit
that
he
rose
to
the
occasion
;
he
hailed
a
hansom
.
"
William
,
"
said
I
gaily
,
"
coffee
,
cigarette
,
and
cherry
brandy
.
"
