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Maugham, W. Somerset (William Somerset), 1874-1965

"Moon and Sixpence"

He was followed by his sister. She must have
been the same age as was her mother when first I knew her, and
she was very like her. She too gave one the impression that
as a girl she must have been prettier than indeed she was.
"I suppose you don't remember them in the least," said
Mrs. Strickland, proud and smiling. "My daughter is now
Mrs. Ronaldson. Her husband's a Major in the Gunners."
"He's by way of being a pukka soldier, you know," said
Mrs. Ronaldson gaily. "That's why he's only a Major."
I remembered my anticipation long ago that she would marry a soldier.
It was inevitable. She had all the graces of the soldier's wife.
She was civil and affable, but she could hardly conceal her intimate
conviction that she was not quite as others were. Robert was breezy.
"It's a bit of luck that I should be in London when you turned
up," he said. "I've only got three days' leave."
"He's dying to get back," said his mother.
"Well, I don't mind confessing it, I have a rattling good time
at the front. I've made a lot of good pals. It's a first-rate life.
Of course war's terrible, and all that sort of thing;
but it does bring out the best qualities in a man,
there's no denying that.


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