( She won't mind, will she? The ma'am. And she doesn't need to know, and besides, when the boy slips the great, groaning heap of hand-scribed letters in the doctor's hand, there's no witness. Only him to know, only the gentleman, and grown men don't gossip or lie or tattle. Ma'am says so. Good people don't do the sort, and why'd she be letting them live with them, if they weren't good?
So they must be. So he must be right, trading the doctor his burden for the strange glistened trinket and starting the early trot down the nooks and twisting hollows of the tunnel roads. Won't be light like they see out any time soon, but they start the lamps at a hard bun, come 'morning.' )
We take them from, um. From... ( And pointing, behind himself, towards the indiscriminate mouth of another labyrinth. ) The train man puts it there. And they've got... ( A wipe of his thumb on the corners of the letters, marked with different inks of stamp. ) That's Mr. Grove, that's Mrs. Ellis...
( He's learned each and every one, knows all sorts of shapes, except... except this strange predicament of a gift in his hand, which has earned the weight of his thoughtful frown. )
What... ( And whispered, lower: ) What's it do?
( Looks like a globe, he supposes, or... or maybe one of those fine toys he sees at year's end time, when the fancier folk bring their children out for celebrations. )
no subject
( She won't mind, will she? The ma'am. And she doesn't need to know, and besides, when the boy slips the great, groaning heap of hand-scribed letters in the doctor's hand, there's no witness. Only him to know, only the gentleman, and grown men don't gossip or lie or tattle. Ma'am says so. Good people don't do the sort, and why'd she be letting them live with them, if they weren't good?
So they must be. So he must be right, trading the doctor his burden for the strange glistened trinket and starting the early trot down the nooks and twisting hollows of the tunnel roads. Won't be light like they see out any time soon, but they start the lamps at a hard bun, come 'morning.' )
We take them from, um. From... ( And pointing, behind himself, towards the indiscriminate mouth of another labyrinth. ) The train man puts it there. And they've got... ( A wipe of his thumb on the corners of the letters, marked with different inks of stamp. ) That's Mr. Grove, that's Mrs. Ellis...
( He's learned each and every one, knows all sorts of shapes, except... except this strange predicament of a gift in his hand, which has earned the weight of his thoughtful frown. )
What... ( And whispered, lower: ) What's it do?
( Looks like a globe, he supposes, or... or maybe one of those fine toys he sees at year's end time, when the fancier folk bring their children out for celebrations. )