anthology
As he sat there, his typewriter in-front of him, feeling more delicate than the thin sheet of newsprint loaded within it, his present residence was something to be ashamed of. Nothing at all like the house, the corner house – which rose against the subdued colours around. When he had come to London, he knew…
page 53
He could not hate and detest. he said, I’ll never do it any more.
Page 52
the spot on his lips of which sh administered the kiss, was physically injured. The moment picked upon my soul.
page 51
your arms holding on touching me. But I don’t want anyone to kiss me
Page 50
One’s life is hardly safe behind just the beginning.
page 48
the village night sighed. For all love for her, any eye can see.
page 47
a week or two appeared to urge her determination. In a moment they had disappeared behind the lowering corners of his lips.
page 46
think better for that’s the way to save a hasty good-bye.
page 45
It is much better looking to reflect love even if I’ll hear ‘going to work’ for ‘goodbye’