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Moore, George (George Augustus), 1852-1933

"Memoirs of My Dead Life"

"
"But what shall we say in explanation? Shall we say we're cousins?"
"Nobody believes in cousins; shall we say we're husband and wife?"
The dreamer sees two figures; memory reflects them like a convex
mirror, reducing them to a tenth their original size, but he sees them
clearly, and he follows them through the rain up the steps of the
villa to the _perron_--an explicit word that the English language
lacks. The young man continues to protest that he never was at
Vincennes before, that he knows no one living there, and they are both
a little excited by the adventure. Who can be the owner of the house?
A man of ordinary tastes, it would seem, and while waiting for their
host the lovers examine the Turkey carpet, the richly upholstered
sofas and chairs.
A pretty little situation from which an accomplished story-teller
could evolve some playful imaginings. The accomplished story-teller
would see at once that _le bon bourgeois et sa dame_ and the
children are learning English, and here is an occasion of practice for
the whole family. The accomplished story-teller would see at once that
the family must take a fancy to the young couple, and in his story the
rain must continue to fall in torrents; these would prevent the lovers
from returning to Paris.


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