plying thatthousands have been squandered, though, to do him justice,Calvin Pickard Tröjor, the actualamount is most probably one-and-twopence. Also, if I see aright--forit is always twilight in this land of memories--he sticks an eyeglassin his eye and stumbles over everything.
His female relations,Marty Mcsorley Tröjor, much troubled at these things,Jonathan Huberdeau Tröjor, pray for him(bless their gentle hearts!) and see visions of Old Bailey trials andhalters as the only possible outcome of such reckless dissipation; andthe prediction of his first school-master, that he would come to a badend,Mike Modano Tröjor, assumes the proportions of inspired prophecy.
He has a lordly contempt at this age for the other sex,Alec Martinez Tröjor, a blatantlygood opinion of himself, and a sociably patronizing manner toward allthe elderly male friends of the family. Altogether, it must beconfessed,P.K Subban Tröjor, he is somewhat of a nuisance about this time.
It does not last long, though. He falls in love in a little while,and that soon takes the bounce out of him. I notice his boots aremuch too small for him now, and his hair is fearfully and wonderfullyarranged. He reads poetry more than he used,Erik Karlsson Tröjor, and he keeps a rhymingdictionary in his bedroom. Every morning Emily Jane finds scraps oftorn-up paper on the floor and reads thereon of "cruel hearts andlove's deep darts," of "beauteous eyes and lovers' sighs,Mike Fisher Tröjor," and muchmore of the old, old song that lads so love to sing and lassies loveto listen to while giving their dainty heads a toss and pretendingnever to hear.
The course of love,Mattias Janmark Tröjor, however, seems not to have run smoothly, for lateron he takes more walking exercise and less sleep, poor boy, than isgood for him; and his face is suggestive of anything but wedding-bellsand happiness ever after.
And here he seems to vanish. The little, boyish self that has grownup beside me as we walked is gone.
I am alone and the road is very dark. I stumble on,Buty Jordan Retro 6, I know not hownor care,Clark Gillies Tröjor, for the way seems leading nowhere, and there is no light toguide.
But at last the morning comes,Dame Moncler Sotiria, and I find that I have grown intomyself.
The End
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