[Birds of Prey by M. E. Braddon]@TWC D-Link book
Birds of Prey

CHAPTER III
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Yet I do not think that George Sheldon will have cause to complain of me, since I have worked very closely for my twenty shillings per week, and have devoted myself to the business in hand with an amount of enthusiasm which I did not think it possible for me to experience--except for-- I went to church on Sunday morning, and was more devoutly inclined than it has been my habit to feel; for although a man who lives by his wits must not necessarily be a heathen or an atheist, it is very difficult for him to be anything like a Christian.

Even my devotion yesterday was not worth much, for my thoughts went vagabondising off to Charlotte Halliday in the midst of a very sensible practical sermon.
In the afternoon I read the papers, and dozed by the fire in the coffee-room--two-thirds coke by the way, and alternating from the fierceness of a furnace to the dreary blackness of an exhausted coal-mine--still thinking of Charlotte.
Late in the evening I walked the streets of the town, and thought what a lonely wretch I was.

The desert of Sahara is somewhat dismal, I daresay; but in its dismality there is at least a flavour of romance, a smack of adventure.

O, the hopeless dulness, the unutterable blankness of a provincial town late on a Sunday night, as it presents itself to the contemplation of a friendless young man without a sixpence in his pocket, or one bright hope to tempt him to forgetfulness of the past in pleasant dreaming of the future! Complaining again! O pen, which art the voice of my discontent, your spluttering is like this outburst of unmanly fretfulness and futile rage! O paper, whose flat surface typifies the dull level of my life, your greasy unwillingness to receive the ink is emblematic of the soul's revolt against destiny! This afternoon brought me a letter from Sheldon, and opened a new channel for my explorations in that underground territory, the past.
That man has a marvellous aptitude for his work; and has, what is more than aptitude, the experience of ten years of failure.

Such a man must succeed sooner or later.


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