He raised his glass. ‘Here's to you, Oom Ben,’ he said. ‘Give them hell.’
Then Romany went down, then we fell together, and the chaps separated us. I got another knock-down blow in, and was beginning to enjoy the novelty of it, when Romany staggered and limped. ‘I’ve done,’ he said. ‘I’ve twisted my ankle.’ He’d caught his heel against a tuft of grass.
Excellent descriptive power and frequent brilliant lines in this adoxographic poem.
I remember when you were a boy you wished to make your fine new whip a present to old aunt Peggy, merely because she admired it; and now, with like unreflecting and unappropriate liberality, you would resign your beloved to a smoke-dried young sophister, who cares not one of the hairs which it is his occupation to split for all the daughters of Eve.
アカウントを持っていませんか? 新規登録
アカウントを持っていますか? ログイン
DiQt(ディクト)
無料
★★★★★★★★★★