, and  s very tual brooding,  a trick of , like an old gypsy  of foreseeing disasters. Only petty disasters, of course. As for ions, stention to tter is going up, and ts are , and talment due on t’s any. Ss e pleasure out of rocking o and fro , and glooming at me, ‘But, George, it’s very SERIOUS! I don’t knoo DO! I don’t knoo realize  IS!’ and so on and so fort’s fixed firmly in   to t mind it a quarter as muc sy.

    tairs already,  ligo keep anyone else out of t to t table t o tune of ‘Yes, you did!’ ‘No, I didn’t!’ ‘Yes, you did!’ ‘No, I didn’t!’ and looked like going on for t of til I told to c. t’s a peculiar feeling t I o deal of time I can ick t of tion, it’s just unbearable. t t dreary bread-and-butter age op marks in Frenc otimes, especially  feeling. Sometimes I’ve stood over ts, on summer evenings ’s given me t feeling you read about in t says your bo sucimes I feel t I’m just a kind of dried-up seed-pod t doesn’t matter t my sole importance o bring tures into t t’s only at moments. Most of time my separate existence looks pretty important to me, I feel t t and plenty of good times aion of myself as a kind of tame dairy-co of o c appeal to me.

    e didn’t talk muc breakfast.  knoo DO!’ mood, partly oo tter and partly because tmas ill five pounds o term. I ate my boiled egg and spread a piece of bread  in buying tuff. It’s fivepence-ells you, in t print t it contains ‘a certain proportion of neutral fruit-juice’. tarted me off, in tating alking about neutral