Mauritius

Impression, she is a socialist. "

"Am I, Kitty? Good news."

"You mean bad news, Miss Tonks," said Aunt Ida.

"Mom, who is the bride?"

"You make fun of 'who also' all the time."

"Ah, Mom, go on, who is she?" Ada swallowed her unconvinced words and asked.

"Miss Anne Woods. You can read it yourself. He met her in Greece. Mrs. Anne Woods, daughter of Sir H. Woods."

Women who knew the world well asked questions aloud, and then Mrs. Durham wrote: "I will now tell you the lady's name: Anne Woods, daughter of Sir H. Woods. Original text: "I

will now tell you the name of the lady: Anne Woods, daughter of Sir

H.Woods." Mrs Durham is pronounced "LadyAnneWoods". Lady

It is a respectful title for aristocratic women. It is translated as "Madame" or "Miss" according to whether they are married or unmarried.The daughter of someone who only has the title of jazz cannot be named Lady before her name, so women questioned her when they heard her say that. )”

Even so, however, it was extraordinary, and there was something romantic about getting acquainted in Greece.

"Maurice!" came the aunt's voice through the uproar.

"Ugh!"

"Why hasn't the child come yet?"

Maurice leaned back in his chair and called to the ceiling, "Dickie!" They accepted Dr. Barry's request to keep his young nephew at home for the weekend.

"He's not sleeping in the upper room, and it's no use shouting," said Kitty.

"I'll go upstairs and have a look."

He smoked half a cigarette in the garden and came back.The news upset him, it came so mercilessly, no one reacted that it mattered to him, and it caused him no less pain than the news itself.It really has nothing to do with him, and now, Mrs Durham and his mother are the protagonists.While the sons' friendship ended in tragedy, theirs lived on.

He thought: "Clive should write a letter. For the sake of the past friendship, he should write." At this moment his aunt interrupted his train of thought: "The child never came." she complained.

He smiled broadly and stood up. "It's my fault, I forgot."

"Forget it!" Everyone's attention was focused on him. "You came here on purpose, and you forgot? Oh, Maury, what a ridiculous fellow." He left the room, with humorous insults behind him.He almost forgot again. "I've got to run some errands there," he thought, feeling extremely tired.

He walked up the stairs with an elderly gait, reached the landing, and took a deep breath.He spread his arms out wide, and it was a morning full of life—for others.For them the leaves rustled and the sun poured into the house.He knocked on Dickie Barry's door, and it seemed to open without much effort.

The boy had attended the ball the night before and was still fast asleep.He lay there completely naked.He lay shamelessly, the sunlight embracing and penetrating him.His lips are slightly parted, the hairs on his upper lip are golden, the countless hairs are dazzling, and his flesh is a soft amber color.In anyone's eyes, he is beautiful.As for Maurice, he had two paths leading to the boy, who had become the desire of the world.

"It's past nine o'clock." Morris finally managed to say such a sentence.

Dickie groaned and pulled the covers up to his chin.

"Breakfast—get up."

"How long have you been here?" he said, opening his eyes.Only his eyes were visible now, and they were fixed on Maurice.

"A little while," he said after a pause.

"I am very sorry."

"You can get up as late as you want—I just don't want you to miss the good weather."

Downstairs, the female relatives are indulging in aristocratic worship.Kitty asked him if he knew anything about Miss Woods.He replied, "Yes." The lie marked the beginning of a new era, and then came the aunt's voice. "Is that child never coming?"

"I told him not to hurry down," said Maurice, trembling all over.

"You're not very capable, Maurice, my dear," said Mrs. Hall.

"He's here as a guest."

The aunt expressed her opinion that the guest is first obliged to abide by the master's house rules.He had never contradicted her once so far, but now he said: "The house rule here is that everybody does what he likes."

"Breakfast at 08:30."

"For those who will. Those who haven't slept enough will have breakfast at nine or ten."

"Nobody can go on like this, Maurice. You'll find you can't keep any of the servants."

"I'd rather let my servants quit than have my guests treated like schoolchildren."

"Schoolboy! Uh! He is!"

"Mr Barry is currently in Woolwich City, on the south bank of the Thames. Woolwich is downstream.).”

Aunt Ida snorted, but Miss Tonks gave him a respectful glance.The others did not listen, they were eager to talk about poor Mrs Durham, and now all she had left was the widow's room.After losing his temper, he was very happy.A few minutes later Dickie came to the table.Maurice rose to meet his god.The boy had just taken a shower, and his wet hair lay flat on his head.His beautiful body was covered by clothes, but he was still very beautiful.He was so fresh—perhaps arriving with the flowers—that he gave the impression of modesty and goodwill.When he apologized to Mrs. Hall, the tone of his voice made Maurice shudder.And here was the child he would not care for at Sunnington!This was the guest who had bored him when he had arrived last night.

The passion persisted and was so strong that he believed that the turning point in his life had come.As before, he canceled all appointments.After breakfast, he took Dickie to his uncle's house.The two walked arm in arm, made an appointment to drink tea together and kept the appointment.Maurice was brimming with joy.His blood boiled and he could not concentrate on what others were saying, but even that worked to his advantage.Because when he asked "what," Dickie would come over to his couch.He put an arm around Dickie... Aunt Ida came in and disaster was averted.But Maurice thought he saw a reaction in those frank eyes.

They meet again in the middle of the night.Maurice was no longer happy now, for during the hours of waiting his passion had become physical.

"I've got the Portkey," said Dickie, startled to find that the master was still up.

"I know."

Pausing for a moment, the two were very uneasy, looking at each other, but afraid of meeting each other's sight.

"Is it cold outside at night?"

"not cold."

"Before I go upstairs, is there anything I can do for you?"

"without thanks."

Maurice strolled to the switch and switched on the light on the landing.Then he turned off the light in the hall and hopped after Dickie, catching up with him quietly.

"This is my house." He whispered to the boy. "I mean usually. They asked me out because of you." He added: "I sleep here alone." He realized the words had come out of his mouth.He took off Dickie's coat and stood there holding it, silent.The house was so quiet that they could even hear the breathing of the women in other rooms.

The boy didn't say anything either.The process of human development is varied and endless, and he happened to be fully aware of his situation.If Hall insisted, he wouldn't make a fuss.Yet he'd rather nothing happen, that's what he thinks about it.

"I'm upstairs," breathed Maurice, timidly. "In the attic above this room—alone all night, always."

After Maurice left, Dickie had an impulse to lock the door.However, he felt that this was not the behavior of a student of a non-commissioned officer school, so he dismissed the idea.He woke up when the breakfast bell rang.The sun shone on his face, and his spirit was washed clean.

The incident devastated Maurice's life.He relives this as an old dream, mistaking Dickie for a second Clive.Three years, however, could not have been passed in one day, and the flames died out as quickly as they were burned, leaving behind suspicious ashes.Dicky left on Monday, and by Friday his shadow had faded.A customer came to his office, a lively and handsome young Frenchman, and begged Monsieur not to be deceived.They joked with each other, and a familiar feeling emerged, but this time he smelled something from the abyss.The Frenchman begged to have lunch with him, and he replied, "No, I'm afraid a man like me must keep toiling away." His unmistakably British accent elicited a burst of laughter and exaggerated gestures.

When the man left he saw the truth.he to di