Читать книгу Wintersmoon онлайн

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He had been told that he must read the novels of Mr. James Fossett, and faithfully he had read four or five of them. But he would read no more. Partly because they seemed so closely to resemble one another—there was a Policeman in all of them—and partly because the picture they presented did not at all resemble any life that he himself knew. The characters seemed to be in a sad repressed state, held down firmly by the cold hand of their author. He longed to watch them all out at play when Mr. Fossett had no longer his eye upon them.

Nor was it his experience that the Lower Orders were always unhappy. The Policeman on the corner of Half Moon Street—four to twelve one week and eight to four the next—was a good friend of his—he invited him sometimes when the weather was bad to the enjoyment of a glass of whisky—a very cheerful individual with a charming wife and two handsome little boys. Old Fullerton—head man in these Chambers for the last thirty years—found life anything but depressing; and the old man who sold the Evening News by the "In and Out" could be heard whistling to himself any fine evening.