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 s