Ìṩ ²ÊƱ´úͶע ÏÂÔØ 【天天红包,注册立即送88 -²ÊƱ´úͶע×îÐÂƽ̨, ²Ê Ʊ Ͷ ×¢ Õ¾ Àû Èó,²Ê Ʊ Õ¾ Ͷ ×¢,²Ê Ʊ Ͷ ×¢ Öú ÊÖ,²Ê ²Ê Ʊ Ͷ ×¢,²Ê Ʊ Ͷ ×¢ ϵ,Çë Åó ÓÑ ¸æ Ëß ÎÒ500Íò ²Ê Ʊ Íø Ͷ ×¢ ¿É ²» ¿É ¿¿ °¡ £¡ £¡ Ôõ ô Íø ÉÏ Ô٠˵ Íø ÉÏ ²Ê Ʊ ²» ÄÜ ¶Ò »» ÄØ £¿,ΠÖÝ ²Ê Ʊ Ͷ ×¢,ʲ ô ÊÇ Ìå Óý ²Ê Ʊ £¿ ÓРʲ ô ÖÖ Àà £¿ Òª Ͷ ×¢ ¶à ÉÙ £¿ Ëü Óë ¸£ Àû ²Ê Ʊ ÓРʲ ô ²» ͬ £¿ £¿,,²Ê Ʊ ´ú Ͷ ×¢

‘Thomas Keeling.’‘Ah, that had not occurred to me,’ said Keeling.�

���

�‘Yes, it’s just a matter of business, isn’t it?’ he said.{188}Mrs Keeling began to fear the worst, and forced a twin tear from her other eye.{51}

‘Infinitely distressed,’ he repeated. ‘I had no idea that you ever looked upon me——’��

�‘I adore my new parish,’ he said. ‘I was almost afraid when I took the living I should find too little to do. But coming home late last night from a bedside, if I saw one drunken man I must have seen twenty, some roaring drunk, some simply stupidly drunk, dear fellows! I asked two of them to come home with me, and have another drink, and there was I in the middle with two drunken lads, one with a black eye, reeling along Alfred Street. I don’t know what my parishioners must have thought of their new pastor. You should seen my housekeeper’s face, when I{56} told her that I had brought two friends home with me.’

Alice could do better than give him little bits, thanks to her excellent memory and her practice this afternoon, and in addition to several Songs Without Words, gave him a couple of pretty solid slow movements out of Beethoven’s Sonatas. It was not altogether her fault that she went on so long, for once when she attempted to get up, he said quite aloud so that everybody could hear, ‘You naughty girl, sit down and play that other piece at once.’ But when eventually the concert came to a close, he pressed her hand for quite a considerable time behind the shelter of the piano, and said almost in a whisper, ‘Oh, such rest, such refreshment!’ Then instantly he became not so much the brisk man of the world as the brisk{61} boy of the world again, and playfully insisted on performing that remarkable duet called ‘Chopsticks’ with her, and made her promise that if Mr Keeling lost all his money, and she had to work for her living, she would give him lessons on the piano at seven-and-sixpence an hour. There was a little chaffering over this, for as a poor priest he said that he ought not to give more than five shillings an hour, while Mrs Keeling, joining in the pleasantries, urged Alice to charge ten. The only possible term to the argument seemed to be to split the difference and call it seven-and-sixpence, cash prepaid.... Mr Keeling was appealed to and thought that fair. But he thought it remarkably foolish also.‘Would it have pleased you better if I had seen her home?’ he asked.�

�‘You are very obstinate,’ he said. ‘I will get an independent estimate of what is a fair price for the completed catalogue when you have finished it, and adjust my payment by that. Will that satisfy you?{191}’She let the curtain fall into place again, and sat by the fire for a little feeling alive to the very tips of her fingers. To-morrow would be a busy day; she had her lesson for her Sunday-school to get ready (she and Julia Fyson were going to prepare that together); there was a hockey-match for girls in the afternoon, at which Mr Silverdale—she said ‘Mr Cuthbert’ aloud again—had promised to be referee, she was going to read the paper to her grandmother (this was now a daily task directly traceable to the vicar), and her altar-cloth would fill up any spare time.

‘There’s your lark,’ she whispered.��

‘God, there’s no fool like an old fool,’ he said to himself as he skirted with a wide berth past the tussock where larks were nesting.Keeling tapped the table impatiently with his fingers. This was business, and in his opinion rotten business.Keeling suddenly pointed an awful forefinger at her.