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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Robert Falconer"


'I never have any engagements,' I answered--'at least, of a social
kind. I am burd alane. I know next to nobody.'
'Then perhaps you would not mind going out with me for a stroll?'
'I shall be most happy,' I answered.
There was something about the man I found exceedingly attractive; I
had very few friends; and there was besides something odd, almost
romantic, in this beginning of an intercourse: I would see what
would come of it.
'Then we'll have some supper first,' said Mr. Falconer, and rang the
bell.
While we ate our chops--
'I dare say you think it strange,' my host said, 'that without the
least claim on your acquaintance, I should have asked you to come
and see me, Mr.--'
He stopped, smiling.
'My name is Gordon--Archie Gordon,' I said.
'Well, then, Mr. Gordon, I confess I have a design upon you. But
you will remember that you addressed me first.'
'You spoke first,' I said.
'Did I?'
'I did not say you spoke to me, but you spoke.--I should not have
ventured to make the remark I did make, if I had not heard your
voice first. What design have you on me?'
'That will appear in due course. Now take a glass of wine, and
we'll set out.'
We soon found ourselves in Holborn, and my companion led the way
towards the City. The evening was sultry and close.
'Nothing excites me move,' said Mr. Falconer, 'than a walk in the
twilight through a crowded street. Do you find it affect you so?'
'I cannot speak as strongly as you do,' I replied.


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