. The Saturday evening post. Somewhere, and Soon, Ill Find You Again. Said the Boy WHEN my friend Percival Goring said good-byto me and to Paula Ostuni on the stepsoutside the Hotel Dandolo at Venice beforejumping into his gondola I saw that the boy wasabsurdly overcome by emotion. It was not grief atparting with me, needless to say, though I was his friend. He just shook my hand in his airy Oxford way, and said,So long, old man. And then he turned to the girl,blushing up to the roots of his hair, and took her hand—apretty hand, as I had often noticed, because ones eyeswere drawn to it by the
. The Saturday evening post. Somewhere, and Soon, Ill Find You Again. Said the Boy WHEN my friend Percival Goring said good-byto me and to Paula Ostuni on the stepsoutside the Hotel Dandolo at Venice beforejumping into his gondola I saw that the boy wasabsurdly overcome by emotion. It was not grief atparting with me, needless to say, though I was his friend. He just shook my hand in his airy Oxford way, and said,So long, old man. And then he turned to the girl,blushing up to the roots of his hair, and took her hand—apretty hand, as I had often noticed, because ones eyeswere drawn to it by the clustered diamonds of her rings—and raised it to his lips, and said in Italian, A rivederci,madonna. Those words were commonplace enough, a formal anrevoir, but they were spoken with an immense boyishtenderness and infinite regret for this parting, which I hadarranged by a kind of treachery—he would have thoughtit that had he known—so that he should be taken awayfrom this girl, the wife of Count Ostuni, who was also
Size: 2394px × 1044px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookidsaturdayeveningp1933unse, bookpublisherph
