Page 709 (18.707-745) "hands twice with... very fine for them"

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hands twice with the left
he didnt recognise me either
when I half frowned at him outside Westland row chapel
where does their great intelligence come in Id like to know
grey matter
they have it all in their tail if you ask me




those country gougers up in the City Arms
intelligence
they had a damn sight less than the bulls and cows they were selling
the meat




and the coalmans bell
that noisy bugger trying to swindle me
with the wrong bill he took out of his hat
what a pair of paws
and pots and pans and kettles to mend
any broken bottles for a poor man today




and no visitors or post ever
except his cheques or some advertisement
like that wonderworker they sent him addressed dear Madam




only his letter and the card from Milly this morning
see she wrote a letter to him
Who did I get the last letter from
O Mrs Dwenn
now what possessed her to write from Canada after so many years
to know the recipe I had for pisto madrileno
Floey Dillon
since she wrote to say she was married to a very rich architect
if Im to believe all I hear with a villa and eight rooms




her father was an awfully nice man
he was near seventy always goodhumoured
well now Miss Tweedy or Miss Gillespie theres the pyannyer
that was a solid silver coffee service he had too
on the mahogany sideboard
then dying so far away




I hate people that have always their poor story to tell
everybody has their own troubles
that poor Nancy Blake died a month ago of acute neumonia
well I didnt know her so well as all that
she was Floeys friend more than mine
poor Nancy




its a bother having to answer
he always tells me the wrong things
and no stops
to say like making a speech
your sad bereavement
symphathy I always make that mistake
and newphew with 2 double yous in




I hope hell write me a longer letter the next time
if its a thing he really likes me
O thanks be to the great God
I got somebody to give me what I badly wanted
to put some heart up into me
youve no chances at all in this place
like you used long ago




I wish somebody would write me a loveletter
his wasnt much
and I told him he could write what he liked
yours ever Hugh Boylan
in old Madrid stuff silly women believe
love is sighing I am dying




still if he wrote it I suppose thered be some truth in it
true or no it fills up your whole day and life
always something to think about every moment
and see it all round you like a new world
I could write the answer in bed to let him imagine me
short just a few words




not those long crossed letters Atty Dillon used to write
to the fellow that was something in the four courts
that jilted her after
out of the ladies letterwriter
when I told her to say a few simple words he could twist how he liked
not acting with precipat precip itancy
with equal candour
the greatest earthly happiness
answer to a gentlemans proposal affirmatively
my goodness theres nothing else
its all very fine for them

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