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    Mrs. Pangborn had not yet arrived. She had been delayed by some family difficulty, it was understood, and really, for these first days of the new term, “things were going every which-way,” as Tavia herself declared.

    You must not think that there was any TELLING of these stories of this life-long series by Mr. Hoopdriver. He never dreamt that they were known to a soul. If it were not for the trouble, I would, I think, go back and rewrite this section from the beginning, expunging the statements that Hoopdriver was a poet and a romancer, and saying instead that he was a playwright and acted his own plays. He was not only the sole performer, but the entire audience, and the entertainment kept him almost continuously happy. Yet even that playwright comparison scarcely expresses all the facts of the case. After all, very many of his dreams never got acted at all, possibly indeed, most of them, the dreams of a solitary walk for instance, or of a tramcar ride, the dreams dreamt behind the counter while trade was slack and mechanical foldings and rollings occupied his muscles. Most of them were little dramatic situations, crucial dialogues, the return of Mr. Hoopdriver to his native village, for instance, in a well-cut holiday suit and natty gloves, the unheard asides of the rival neighbours, the delight of the old 'mater,' the intelligence--"A ten-pound rise all at once from Antrobus, mater. Whad d'yer think of that?" or again, the first whispering of love, dainty and witty and tender, to the girl he served a few days ago with sateen, or a gallant rescue of generalised beauty in distress from truculent insult or ravening dog.

    From the wharf Almayer hailed, in quavering tones:

    Chapter 5

    Oedipus had not gone far on his way to The bes when he sawa cart coming towards him. The man sitting in the cart,angry at the young man in the way,whipped him on the face with anoath . Oedipus jumped onto the cart and killed him in his anger.of the five servants who followed their master on foot,only oneescaped narrowly. Little did Oedipus think that the man sitting in the cart was King Laicus,his father. Presently the young manar rived in the kingdom of The bes. Round about this time,the The bans were troubled by a woman headed monster,called Sphinx, who produced a riddle to them. The crown and the hand of the widow queen were offered to anyone who could solve the riddle. Oedipus met Sphinx on a cliff. To the monster' s riddle,“What animal walks on four legs in the morning,on two atnoon,and on three at night?”he offered the answer,“Man,Who creeps in infancy,walks upright in manhood,and supportshis steps with a staff in old age.” Thus, Sphinx threw herselfdown into the valley. Oedipus became king of Thebes and husband of the queen,his mother.

    ‘Well, what’s wrong?’ said Michael, advancing to the grate, where, knowing his friend’s delight in a bright fire, Mr Pitman had not spared the fuel. ‘I suppose you have come to grief somehow.’

    Harry with his bride, his father and his mother, left the chapel in haste and in terror.

    Basildon smiled up at Bond. "Evening," he said. He waved a hand round the table from the left to right. "Meyer, Dangerfield, Drax." The three men looked up briefly and Bond nodded a greeting to the table in general. "You all know the Admiral," added the Chairman, starting to deal.

      When he was in the prince's ancestral temple, or in the court, hespoke minutely on every point, but cautiously.

    "Of everything. More than ever. Constantly."

    Surviving' forms the bliss of Heaven.

    Chapter 28

    Joe came up waving triumphantly a chewed piece of the waistcoat. “D-d-did it g-give them a buster, Dad?” he said, the sweat running over his face as though a spring had broken out on top of his head. Dad jumped a log and tried to unbuckle his strap and reach for Joe at the same time, but Joe fled.

    “I don’t know what you mean by that!” She had got to her feet and was looking at him.

    The six-year-old child nodded and shut the secretary drawer. Martin stroked his fair soft hair and his hand lingered tenderly on the nape of the child's frail neck.

    “Weak tyrant,” returned Osbert, his countenance impressed with the firm dignity of virtue, “to insult the vanquished, is congenial with the cruel meanness of the murderer; nor do I expect, that the man who slew the father, will spare the son; but know, that son is nerved against your wrath, and welcomes all that your fears or your cruelty can impose.”

    I wasn’t ready before, but now I am. My Mom and Cyrus are going away on Friday and I really want you to sleep over. I love you. Call me. Love, Blair. Nate read Blair’s e-mail twice and then closed the file so he wouldn’t have to look at it anymore. It was only Wednesday. Was it possible that Blair could remain ignorant about him and Serena until Friday, even though she was in school with Serena every day and they were best friends and told each other everything? Chances were, no. And what about Chuck Bass? He wasn’t exactly good at keeping secrets. Nate rubbed his pretty green eyes viciously. It didn’t matter how Blair found out. Any way he looked at it, he was fucked. He tried to come up with a plan, but the only plan he could think of was to wait and see what happened when he saw Blair on Friday night. There was no point in getting all worked up about it now. Just then the door to the computer lab opened, and Jeremy Scott Tompkinson poked his head around the door. “Yo, Nathaniel, we’re cutting Gym. Come to the park with us and play some ball.” The second bell rang. Nate was late for Gym anyway, and after Gym he had lunch. Cutting sounded like an excellent idea. “Yeah, sure,” Nate said. “Hold on a sec.” He clicked on Blair’s e-mail and dragged it across the screen and into the trash. “Okay,” he said, standing up. “Let’s go.” Hmmm, if he really loved her, he probably would’ve saved the e-mail, or at least answered it, right? It was a sunny October day in Central Park. Out in Sheep Meadow lots of kids were cutting school, just lying in the grass, smoking, or playing Frisbee. The trees surrounding the meadow were a blaze of yellows, oranges, and reds, and beyond the trees loomed the beautiful old apartment buildings on Central Park West. A guy was selling weed, and Anthony Avuldsen bought some to add to what Nate had picked up at the pizza place yesterday at lunch. Nate, Jeremy, Anthony, and Charlie Dern passed an enormous joint between them as they dribbled a soccer ball around on the grass. Charlie puffed on the joint and passed it to Jeremy. Nate shot him the ball and Charlie tripped over it. He was six feet tall, and his head was too big for his body. People called him Frankenstein. Ever the blond athletic one, even when he was stoned, Anthony dove for the ball, kicked it up in the air and headed it at Jeremy. It hit Jeremy in his puny chest and he let it roll to the ground, dribbling it between his feet. “Shit, this stuff is strong,” Jeremy said, hitching up his pants. They were always sliding down below his skinny hips, no matter how tightly he buckled his belt. “Yeah, it is,” Nate agreed. “I’m all fucked up.” His feet were itchy. It felt like the grass was growing through the rubber soles of his sneakers. Jeremy stopped dribbling the ball. “Hey, Nate. Have you seen Serena van der Woodsen yet?” he asked. “I heard she’s back.” Nate looked at the ball longingly, wishing he had it so he could dribble it away across the field and pretend he hadn’t heard Jeremy’s question. He could feel the other three boys staring at him. He bent down and pulled his left shoe off so he could scratch the bottom of his foot. Damn, it itched. “Yeah, I saw her Monday,” he said casually, hopping up and down on one foot. Charlie cleared his throat and spit in the grass. “What’d she look like?” he asked. “I heard she got into all sorts of trouble up at Hanover.” “Me too,” Anthony said, sucking on the roach. “I heard she got kicked out for having sex with this whole group of guys in her room. Her roommate ratted her out.” He laughed. “Like, couldn’t she afford a hotel room?” Charlie laughed. “I heard she has a kid. I’m serious. She had it in France and left it there. Her parents are paying to have it raised in some fancy French convent. It’s like a fucking movie, man.” Nate couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He dropped his shoe and sat down in the grass. Then he took off his other shoe and pulled off both of his socks. He didn’t say anything, he just sat there, scratching his bare feet. “Can you imagine Serena with all these guys in her dorm room? Like, Ooh, baby. Harder, harder!” Jeremy fell down on the grass, rubbing his skinny belly and cackling hysterically. “Oh, man!” “Wonder if she even knows who the daddy is,” Anthony said. “I heard there was a pretty major drug thing going on, too,” Charlie said. “She was dealing and got addicted to whatever it was. She was in rehab in Switzerland all summer. After the baby was born, I guess.” “Whoa, that is fucked up,” Jeremy said. “You and her had a thing, didn’t you, Nate?” Charlie said. “Where’d you hear that?” Nate asked, frowning. Charlie shook his head and smiled. “I don’t know, man. Around. What’s the problem? She’s hot.” “Yeah, well, I’ve had hotter,” Nate said, and immediately regretted it. What was he talking about? “Yeah, Blair’s pretty hot too, I guess,” Charlie said. “I bet she gets pretty crazy in bed,” Jeremy agreed. “Dude’s tired just thinking about it!” Anthony said, pointing at Nate and cackling. Nate laughed and shook his head, trying to shake their words out of his ears. He lay back in the grass and stared at the empty blue sky. If he tilted his head all the way back, he could just see the rooftops of the penthouses along Fifth Avenue, Serena’s and Blair’s included. Nate let his chin fall so all he could see was blue sky again. He was too baked to deal with any of this. He tuned his friends out and tried to clear his mind completely, his head as empty and blue as the sky. But he couldn’t get the images of Serena and Blair out of his mind’s eye, floating naked above his head. “You know you love me,” they were saying. Nate smiled and closed his eyes. Disclaimer: All the real names of places, people, and events havebeen altered or abbreviated to protect the innocent. Namely, me.

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