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thingsandnostopstosaylikemakingaspeechyoursadbereavementsympathyIalwaysmakethatmistakeandnewphewwith2doubleyousinIhopehellwritemealongerletterthenexttimeifitsathinghereallylikesmeOthanksbetothegreatGodIgotsomebodytogivemewhatIbadlywantedtoputsomeheartupintomeyouvenochancesatallinthisplacelikeyouusedlongagoIwishsomebodywouldwritemealove-letterhiswasntmuchandItoldhimhecouldwritewhathelikedyourseverHughBoylaninOldMadridsillywomenbelieveloveissighingIamdyingstillifhewroteitIsupposetheredbesometruthinittrueornoitfillsupyourwholedayandlifealwayssomethingtothinkabouteverymomentandseeitallaroundyoulikeanewworldIcouldwritetheanswerinbedtolethimimaginemeshortjustafewwordsnotthoselongcrossedlettersAttyDillonusedtowritetothefellowthatwassomethinginthefourcourtsthatjiltedherafteroutoftheladiesletterwriterwhenItoldhertosayafewsimplewordshecouldtwisthowhelikednotactingwithprecipitprecipitancywithequalcandourthegreatestearthlyhappinessanswertoagentlemansproposalaffirmativelymygoodnesstheresnothingelseitsallveryfineforthembutasforbeingawomanassoonasyoureoldtheymightaswellthrowyououtinthebottomoftheashpit。

MulveyswasthefirstwhenIwasinbedthatmorningandMrsRubiobroughtitinwiththecoffeeshestoodtherestandingwhenIaskedhertohandmeandIpointingatthemIcouldntthinkofthewordahairpintoopenitwithahhorquilladisobligingoldthinganditstaringherinthefacewithherswitchoffalsehaironherandvainaboutherappearanceuglyasshewasnear80ora100herfaceamassofwrinkleswithallherreligiondomineeringbecauseshenevercouldgetovertheAtlanticfleetcominginhalftheshipsoftheworldandtheUnionJackflyingwithallhercarabinerosbecause4drunkenEnglishsailorstookalltherockfromthemandbecauseIdidntrunintomassoftenenoughinSantaMariatopleaseherwithhershawluponherexceptwhentherewasamarriageonwithallhermiraclesofthesaintsandherblackblessedvirginwiththesilverdressandthesundancing3timesonEasterSundaymorningandwhenthepriestwasgoingbywiththebellbringingthevaticantothedyingblessingherselfforhisMajestadanadmirerhesigneditInearjumpedoutofmyskinIwantedtopickhimupwhenIsawhimfollowingmealongtheCalleRealintheshopwindowthenhetippedmejustinpassingIneverthoughthedwritemakinganappointmentIhaditinsidemypetticoatbodicealldayreadingitupineveryholeandcornerwhilefatherwasupatthedrillinstructingtofindoutbythehandwritingorthelanguageofstampssingingIremembershallIwearawhiteroseandIwantedtoputontheoldstupidclocktonearthetimehewasthefirstmankissedmeundertheMoorishwallmysweetheartwhenaboyitneverenteredmyheadwhatkissingmeanttillheputhistongueinmymouthhismouthwassweetlikeyoungIputmykneeuptohimafewtimestolearnthewaywhatdidItellhimIwasengagedforfuntothesonofaSpanishnoblemannamedDonMigueldelaFloraandhebelievedthatIwastobemarriedtohimin3yearstimetheresmanyatruewordspokeninjestthereisaflowerthatbloomethafewthingsItoldhimtrueaboutmyselfjustforhimtobeimaginingtheSpanishgirlshedidntlikeIsupposeoneofthemwouldnthavehimIgothimexcitedhecrushedalltheflowersonmybosomhebroughtmehecouldntcountthepesetasandtheperragordastillItaughthimCappoquinhecamefromhesaidontheBlackwaterbutitwastooshortthenthedaybeforeheleftMayyesitwasMaywhentheinfantkingofSpainwasbornImalwayslikethatinthespringIdlikeanewfelloweveryyearuponthetiptopundertherockgunnearOHarastowerItoldhimitwasstruckbylightningandallabouttheoldBarbaryapestheysenttoClaphamwithoutatailcareeringallovertheshowoneachothersbackMrsRubiosaidshewasaregularoldrockscorpionrobbingthechickensoutofIncesfarmandthrowstonesatyouifyouwentanearhewaslookingatmeIhadthatwhiteblouseonopenatthefronttoencouragehimasmuchasIcouldwithouttooopenlytheywerejustbeginningtobeplumpIsaidIwastiredwelayoverthefirtreecoveawildplaceIsupposeitmustbethehighestrockinexistencethegalleriesandcasematesandthosefrightfulrocksandSaintMichaelscavewiththeiciclesorwhatevertheycallthemhangingdownandladdersallthemudplotchingmybootsImsurethatsthewaydownthemonkeysgo