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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Drift from Two Shores"

Up and down the
long avenue the street lay in shadow; by some strange trick of the
atmosphere the sun seemed to have sought out only that graceful
structure for its blessing. And then there was a dull rumble. It
was the first omnibus,--the first throb in the great artery of the
reviving city. I looked up. The church was again in shadow.

WITH THE ENTREES

"Once, when I was a pirate--!"
The speaker was an elderly gentleman in correct evening dress, the
room a tasteful one, the company of infinite respectability, the
locality at once fashionable and exclusive, the occasion an
unexceptionable dinner. To this should be added that the speaker
was also the host.
With these conditions self-evident, all that good breeding could do
was to receive the statement with a vague smile that might pass for
good-humored incredulity or courteous acceptation of a simple fact.
Indeed, I think we all rather tried to convey the impression that
our host, when he WAS a pirate,--if he ever really was one,--was
all that a self-respecting pirate should be, and never violated the
canons of good society.


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