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Walpole, Hugh, Sir, 1884-1941

"Fortitude"

There were the Gambits--a fortnight ago he
was in work and they were as fit as anything ... they haven't had any food
now for three days."
"There ain't anything to be frightened about," Stephen said slowly.
"No, I know. But Stephen, suppose I _don't_ get work, after all. I've been
so confident all this time, but I mightn't be able to do the job a bit....
I suppose this place is getting on my nerves but--I could get awfully
frightened if I let myself."
"Oh, you'll be all right. Of course you'll be getting something--"
"Yes, but I hate spending your money like this. Do you know, Stephen, I'd
almost rather you were out of work too. That sounds a rotten thing to say
but I hate being given it all like this, especially when you haven't got
much of your own either--"
"Between friends," said Stephen slowly, swinging his leg backwards and
forwards and making the bed creak under his weight, "there aren't any
giving or taking--it's just common."
"Oh, yes, I know," said Peter hurriedly, frightened lest he should have
hurt his feelings, "of course it's all right between you and me. But all
the same I'm rather eager to be earning part of it."
They were silent for a time. Bucket Lane too seemed silent and through
their little window, between the black roofs and chimneys, a cluster of
stars twinkled as though they had found their way, by accident, into a very
dirty neighbourhood and were trying to get out of it again.


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