Mauritius

one.Mo. C．Huo. "He thinks it's best to write like this. Both of them are people who are excluded from society. If they quarrel, it's best not to attract the attention of the world. As for choosing this place to meet, because it is unlikely to meet him here Acquaintances. Poor British Museum, both solemn and pure! The young man smiled, with a playful, happy look on his face. There was another reason for this smile: the thought that Clive was not entirely invulnerable after all. Even though the face was now strained and showed less pleasant lines, it proved that he was a strong athlete, unscathed, finally free from a year of misery.

He went back to work the next morning, and the new energy continued.Before his fiasco at Lasker Jones, he had hoped that the job, a privilege he barely deserved, would bring him back to life and hold his head up at home.But now even that hope has been dashed.He wanted to laugh again, wondering why he had been lied to for so long.Hill & Hall's clients came from the upper middle class of the middle class, and their highest desire seemed to be to secure a refuge, and a lasting one at that.Not a hideout in the dark to hide in when you are afraid, but a refuge everywhere and all the time, until the existence of earth and sky is forgotten.This sanctuary protects people from poverty, disease, violence, insolence, and finally, even happiness, a punishment God has quietly imposed upon them.Maurice could see from their faces, as from the faces of the clerks and partners, that they had never known real happiness, that society had provided them with too much, and that they had never struggled.Only hard work can combine the passionate heart with the carnal desire and turn it into love.Maurice could have been an excellent lover, capable of giving and receiving genuine love.In these people, however, the two are not combined, they are either incompetent or licentious.Right now, in his mind, the latter is not as contemptible as the former.Clients came to him to buy securities that were both safe and had a six-cent interest rate.So he replied, "You can't have high interest and safety—you have to give up one." At last they said, "If I put most of my money in four Come play, what do you think?" Even if they played stocks, at best, to avoid disturbing family life, it was only a little bit, but it was enough to show that their virtue was hypocritical.Until yesterday, he had always groveled before them.

Why does he serve these people?He talks about his work ethic like a hard-edged undergraduate.However, the other passengers on the train did not take his words seriously. "Little Hall is a good guy." This evaluation remains unchanged. "He's never going to lose a client, he just won't." Cynicism was not out of place for an industrialist, they concluded. "He kept investing, all that said. Remember? He was talking about the slums in the spring."

The rain fell as usual, falling on a million roofs, and occasionally carrying it into the houses.The rain dispersed the smoke, so that the stench of oil mixed with the smell of wet clothes filled the streets of London.It fell continuously on the museum's spacious forecourt, splashing straight onto soiled pigeons and police helmets.It was very dark in the afternoon, and several lamps had already been lit inside the museum. The magnificent building reminded one of a tomb, miraculously illuminated by the spirits of the dead.

Alek arrived first.He no longer wore corduroy, but a new blue three-piece suit and bowler hat.It's part of his travel outfit for the trip to Argentina.As he boasted, he came of a respectable family--innkeepers, small traders--and it was only by accident that he looked at one point like the son of a savage of the woods.He really loved the woods, the fresh air, and the water, more than anything.He also enjoys protecting or killing wild animals.However, there are no "good opportunities" in the forest, and young people who want to make a fortune must leave the forest.Now he made a foolish determination to make his fortune.Fate had brought him into his grasp a snare, which he intended to cast.He strode across the front yard and bounded up the steps to the columned porch where he stood motionless except for his eyes blinking.It was his habit to change his movements suddenly like this.He was always advancing like a skirmisher.Clive wrote in his testimonial that he was always "on the spot. During my employment I found Ar Scudder to be both quick and industrious".Now he intends to show off these skills.When his quarry arrived by car, he was grim and horrified.He knows a gentleman, and he knows a partner.What kind of person is this man who once said "call me Maurice"?He squinted his eyes and stood there, as if waiting for orders outside Penji's front porch.

Maurice walked anxiously toward the most dangerous day of his life, yet there was a constant ripple in his heart, like a muscle quivering under healthy skin.He wasn't supported by self-esteem, but he felt really good, and he was eager to have a fair fight.As is common in Britain, he wants his opponents to feel good too.He wants to behave decently and be unafraid.A blush came over his own cheeks as he saw Alek's rosy cheeks through the foul air.He made up his mind not to attack until he was attacked.

"There you are," he said, raising his gloved hand to support his hat. "It's raining too much, let's go in and talk."

"You can go anywhere you want."

Maurice looked at him with a slightly friendly expression, and the two went into the museum.No sooner had he entered than Alek raised his head and sneezed like a lion.

"Have you caught a cold? It's all because of the rain."

"What's all this place?" he asked.

"Old things that belong to the state." They stopped in the cloister of the Roman emperor. "Yeah, the weather sucks. Only two sunny days and one good night," he added playfully, surprising himself.

But Alex ignored it.A beginning like this was not what he thought.He waited for the other party to show fear, and then his servant badness could blackmail him.He pretended not to understand what Maurice was obliquely referring to, and sneezed again.A deafening sneeze resounded through the corridor, and his twitched face suddenly revealed a look of hunger.

"I'm glad you wrote to me a second time. I liked both of your letters. I'm not offended—you've never done anything wrong. About cricket, etc., it's all your misunderstanding. I frankly I'll tell you, I'm happy with you. Don't you think I'm not? Is that so? I want you to tell me, I don't understand."

"What's here? There's no mistake." He touched his chest pocket meaningfully. "Your letter, and you and the squire—it cannot be mistaken—one hopes it was a misunderstanding."

"Don't bring that into it," said Maurice, but he was not angry.It suddenly occurred to him that it was strange how he wasn't angry at all.Even Clive at Cambridge lost his sanctity.

"Mr. Hall—I suppose it would be inconvenient to you if something got out."

Maurice found himself trying to discover the meaning behind this sentence.

He went on cautiously, in order to keep Maurice firmly in check. "And I was a respectable lad until you called me into your house for your own amusement. It didn't seem fair at all for a gentleman to wear me down like this. At least that's how my brother saw it." ’” He stammered out the last words: “Of course, my brother is waiting outside at the moment. He wanted to come and talk to you, and he yelled at me like hell. But I said : 'No, Fred, Mr. Hall is a gentleman. He can be trusted to act like a gentleman. So you leave him to me.' And: .And Mr Durham, He was also a gentleman, always has been, and always has been."'

"About Mr Durham," Maurice felt compelled to intervene this day, "I did like him once, and he liked me. But he has changed, and now he doesn't like me anymore, I don't like him either, it's over."

"What's over?"

"Our friendship."

"Mr. Hall, did you hear what I said?"

"I heard everything you said," Maurice replied thoughtfully, and went on in exactly the same tone: "Scudder, why do you think it is 'natural' to like both women and men?" That's what you wrote in your letter. It doesn't seem natural to me. I really have to think that 'natural' means only myself."

The man seemed interested. "So, can't you have children of your own?" he asked rudely.

"I have been to two doctors for this matter. Neither of them helped."

"So, you can't do it?"

"Well, I can't."

"Want one?" he asked, as if hostile.

"If you want, it's probably useless."

"If I wish, Ming