Читать книгу Streets of Night онлайн

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He sat stiff in his chair staring in front of him, his hands clasped tight under the desk. All his flesh was hot and tingling. He breathed deep of the smell of cut grass that drifted in through the window, under the smell of mashed grass and cloverblossoms, sweetness, heaviness, Mary Garden perfume. Gee, am I going to faint?

And there on beds of violets blue

And freshblown roses washed in dew,

Filled her with thee a daughter fair

So buxom blithe and debonair.

Fanshaw felt the blood suddenly rush to his face. If the proctor sees me blushing he'll think I've been cribbing. He hung his head over his paper again.

Devote one hour ... She was common and said ain't. That was not the sort of girl. He was glad he hadn't kissed her... The spotless armor of Sir Galahad. Maybe that was temptation. Maybe he'd resisted temptation. And lastly, Mr. Crownsterne's voice was booming in his ears: And lastly, fellows, let me wish each one of you the best and loveliest and most flower-like girl in the world for your wife. A lot old Crowny knew about it. Marriage was for ordinary people, but for him, love, two souls pressed each to each, consumed with a single fire.