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Full text of "TheCompleteMemoirsOfGeorgeSherston"

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standing beside him. And5 though it sounds silly
enough, I felt queerly touched by the recollection of
that forgotten companionship. For some reason which
I cannot explain, the presence of that "other boy53
made my childhood unexpectedly clear, and brought
me close to a number of things which, I should have
thought, would have faded for ever. For instance, I
have only just remembered the tarnished mirror
which used to hang in the sunless passage which led
to my schoolroom, and how5 when I secretly stared
at my small, white face in this mirror, I could hear
the sparrows chirping in the ivy which grew thickly
outside the windows. Somehow the sight of my own
reflection increased my loneliness, till the voice of my
aunt speaking to one of the servants on the stairs
made me start guiltily away. . * .

And now, as I look up from my writing, these
memories also seem like reflections in a glass, reflec-
tions which are becoming more and more easy to
distinguish. Sitting here, alone with my slowly
moving thoughts, I rediscover many little details,
known only to myself, details otherwise dead and
forgotten with all who shared that time; and I am
inclined to loiter among them as long as possible. *


Now THAT I come to think about it, it seems to
me to be quite on the cards that, had my Aunt
Evelyn employed an unpretentious groom-gardener
(who would really have suited her original require-
ments far better than jaunty young Dixon) I should
never have earned the right to call myself a fox-
hunting man. Dixon's predecessor was a stolid old