Rites of Passage – William Golding - bzelbublive.info

-which turned at once to a speedier rattle as of ironshodheels that had slipped out and deposited their wearer at thebottom with a jarring thump! Whatever my distaste for thefellow's-shall I cal it-extreme unction, in common humanity Iturned to see if he required assistance. But I had taken nomore than a step in that direction when the man himselfstaggered in. He had his shovel hat in one hand and his wigin the other. His parsonical bands were twisted to one side.But what was of all things the most striking was no, not theexpression-but the disorder of his face. M y p e n falters.Imagine if you can a pale and drawn countenance to whichnature has afforded no gift beyond the casual assemblageo f features; a countenance moreover t o which s he hasgiven little i n the way o f flesh but been prodigal of bone.Then open the mouth wide, furnish the hollows under themeagre forehead with staring eyes from which tears wereon the point o f starting-do all that, I say, and you will stillcome short of the comic humiliation that for a fleetingmoment met me eye to eye! Then the man was fumbling atthe door of his hutch, got through it, pulled it to and wasscrabbling at the bolt on the other side. Young Mr Taylorstarted to laugh again. I took him by the ear and twisted ituntil his laugh turned into a yelp-“Allow me to tell you, MrTaylor," said I, but quietly as the occasion demanded,"that one gentleman does not rejoice a t the misfortune ofanother in public. You may make your bows and be off, thetwo of you. We shall take a constitutional again some day, Idon't doubt."