The Old Man And Me

The Old Man And Me

Elaine Dundy

Language: English

Pages: 0

ISBN: B002KZILPY

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


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Plie Orly … Poulet Braconniers … something else Champvallon … Charlotte Printanière … ‘What’s so funny about it?’ asked C. D. ‘Only that I can’t make head or tail of it. In America we generally get to know in advance what we’re eating. Like that menu at the Truite Bleue with all that offal. Ugh, it was offal,’ I added wittily. C. D. looked at me unsmiling. ‘You find it so odd? You must tell me about yourself. I really know so little about Americans – although I had an American wife. Did you

incompetents who couldn’t grasp even the basic fundamentals of an expanding business, let alone one that was growing in leaps and bounds, Poppie was more than satisfied with her. She was a definite asset. At that time he was opening his chain of stores all over the country. She could be trusted with the details as if she was like a partner, but she was never like a partner, she never wanted to be. She simply executed his orders. She never thought for herself. That was what was so irritating about

affinity with Europeans while you people strike me as being a lot closer in every way to the present-day Russians. Odd, when you’re such sworn enemies, but I can’t help feeling it all the same,’ was the way she put it. ‘What do you think?’ ‘You mean rosewise?’ Lady Dag, puzzled, showed no inclination to laugh. ‘You know, gardenwise,’ I explained, showing no inclination to laugh either. ‘Like, we don’t dig gardens. That was what you meant?’ ‘Well, no. I don’t suppose I could know much about

I only dislike in others what I dislike in myself,’ he finished austerely. Jimbo returned with Jinkie, a neat black contrast to her larger-than-life technicolor, and we had a drink together – except for C. D., still stubbornly sticking to mineral water. ‘They’re letting me off early tonight,’ said Jinkie in her husky rusty voice, ‘so let’s split, huh, and make the… make the…’ ‘You want to come along make the scene with us?’ asked Jimbo. ‘Can it be done?’ I asked. ‘We’ve had six tries and this

the Crypt.’ ‘You all order first, please,’ I said. ‘I’m deciding.’ I searched around the restaurant to see what other people were eating that didn’t look so very much like itself. And so at last it came about that there, directly opposite me against the Rembrandt-coloured wall, my gaze landed upon a Rembrandt-looking man smiling lovingly at me with a pair of merry blue eyes. The moment, so initially intense, continued to intensify itself until it seemed frozen in space, apart from all the

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