Chapter 52 fifty one gilbert

Hortens came out of the door in a daze.Clutching the purse tightly, head held high.Take four big steps before stopping to look around.She stood in panic, her fingers trembling around her mouth, changed direction and took two steps, then stopped again.She looked from one side of the street to the other.A piece of paper fell from his hand to the ground.She bent down to pick it up and bumped into a tall man, who yelled at her: Hey, watch the road when you walk!The paper fell from her hand again.She chased after the paper, struggling to grab the leather bag and stuff it in, so as not to repeat the same mistakes.Take four steps to one side and two steps to the other.

I called out to her and she saw me.In an instant, the woman finally knew which way to go.Parted ways with me.I stumbled all the way and managed to keep my pace and walk beside her. How are things going?She avoided me and continued walking.did they hire youShe pretended not to hear.And, my God, she can walk faster than any Jamaican, almost as fast as a Jamaican can run.I have to chase after her and call: Hortens!I'm out of breath.What are they telling you?The woman still won't talk to me.Tsk.I followed her like a lame dog.I yelled: "Wait a minute."She quickens her pace.So, like Aunt Colleen taught me to chase chickens in the yard, I jumped on to catch this woman.I grabbed her with both hands, turned her to me, and said, "Wait a minute."She was as stiff as an iron bar, her neck twisted away deformedly, avoiding my eyes.I asked: So what did they say?All of a sudden she's looking at me and sticking her nose up in the air, man, I'm about to flash.Alas, I know that look.

Why are you asking all these questions?What does this have to do with you? What thin air she left for me under her rage.Come on, good question.Why am I still asking this nasty shrew?I'm ready to leave.Many boys will run after another pair of beautiful legs in front of them, so why should I tell you that you are my wife, just to make her look at me, as if it is a painful regret? Leave me alone.I can take care of myself.I lived like this myself for years before you came along what does it look likeFaster breathing?A defiant shrug?Slightly pursed lips?Who can tell?But something begged me to stay.Hortens, stop yelling at me and tell me what's going on.

She pursed her lips, tsk, all I could do was shake her.Shake gently.Because I am not a rough person.But I shook her bones rattling.A warm, salty tear hits my lips and tells me to stop.she cried.Crystal clear water flowed from her eyes, as steady as a water pipe.She began to turn her face away from me again.A passing woman stared at us.But she didn't care about Hortens' situation, but was just going to walk past us in a long circle. I asked her: what's going on? She said: nothing. So I told her: Holtens, people who have nothing to do will laugh.You don't cry for no reason.

The woman screamed at me again: It's okay! Boy, make her mad.Come on, this may be the first time this woman has felt tears on her face.She is really unbearable!I go away.two steps.Then came the third step of hesitation before turning back to look at her.She was crying and trying not to wipe her nose with her white gloves. I wanted to smile when I heard that: after being slapped hard by the motherland, Holtens was also terribly hurt.Boy, I'm ready to tell her: after pride comes fall.I'm going to stride up to her and rub my hands together and sing: Now you see I'm telling you you're going to listen now.

But choked up and desperate to catch her breath, she repeated: They said I couldn't teach. Well, for a child who suddenly wakes up from a dream, this kind of experience that makes people shed tears of sympathy is the easiest way to soften a hard heart. I took her to the small square to sit down, and she followed me obediently.A dirty little boy also looked us all the way with wide eyes.Hortens whispered in my ear that she needed to be retrained to teach English children.Then I remembered the last time I saw Charlie.Denton thing.The old RAF friend smiled at me with his mouth open because he was happy.He was so happy that he had become a history teacher.I tell you, this man once argued to me foolishly that Wellington won Trafalgar Square!But he was still him, and after a year of training he could stand in front of a wriggling class of boys and teach them nonsense.Hortens should have let out a cry of righteous anguish, not howling in my ear.That stupid boy was still staring at us.I told him: Shhh.He sticks out his tongue, twists his big ears at me, and runs away.But other glances soon took his place.An old man, also fascinated by Hortens, stared at us dumbfounded, stuck his cane into the drainpipe, and almost tripped.A curly-haired woman with dim eyes tried to stare with her mouth open.A fat man pointed, and another dog-leader shook his head and clicked his tongue.Come on, let me tell you, I'm getting closer to these idle people.Tell them to take a step forward and see clearly.Because then I can grab one of them's thin white neck and squeeze it hard.No one in this country can see us cry.

I yelled at them: What are you looking at?Gone, boo. Hortens' hat slipped desolately from her head, only a little askew, but enough to make the haughty Jamaican look comical.I straighten her hat for her.She settled down and lightly touched her eyes with her white-gloved fingertips.I took out my handkerchief so she could wipe her face.However, the handkerchief was not as clean as expected.For several days, I have been wanting to wash it, but Hortens pinches Lao Gao with her fingers, and then quickly stuffs it back to me.She took her handkerchief out of her purse, and I saw Sunday embroidered on the beautiful white cloth.I told her: You took the wrong handkerchief.Boy, she blew her nose with hurricane force on the poor handkerchief before telling me quietly: I went into the closet.

Why go into the storage room?I ask her. Because I thought that was the exit door. Oh my god. But it was a storage room, and all three women laughed at me. I pictured that scene in my mind, but instead of laughing out loud at the humiliation this proud woman suffered, I felt a tug in my heart.Then tell me, what does the storage room look like? Her expression flashed to see what the idiot was saying, but she replied: there is a bucket, and there should be a mop. ah.Well, that's just the broom closet.I've been in a lot of broom closets.She stared at me, her eyes were red and wet with tears.And I believe it was the first time she looked at me without contempt.I took a few breaths before continuing to say: It's true!I walked into the broom cabinet, stationery cabinet

There is also paper in this room. Really interesting.I told her that there was a broom and paper.Then She smiled! I used to think that Hortens must have a row of fangs ground as sharp as fingernails.But she didn't.Her teeth are small and white, and there is a small gap between the front teeth.Well, is this real?I've never seen her smile!I thought carefully about what to say next, because I was afraid that a single word would drive away this astonishing spectacle.I asked: How long did you say you stayed in the closet?And, darling, that smile still had a sound. She giggled. Long enough for me to know I'm not dead, just in the closet.

That's a long time. She laughed, and I cursed at the sky, which frowned above our heads and shot a blinding sun.Long enough for them to think I'm an idiot. Ah well, that's not too long.Boy, I'm too much.As soon as the words came out, I wished I could scoop them back up and stuff them into my big mouth.All traces of joy vanish like ghosts. Are you kidding me, Gilbert?Joseph?I was ready to throw myself on the ground and let her walk over me.But the clouds drifted past.She jokingly hit me on the arm. What did you do when you came out of the closet?I proceed cautiously. I walk out of the office.

Did you say anything to the women who mocked you? What can I say? You have to tell them that the closet is fun. you idiot. If it were me, I would say that. That's because you're stupid.No, I should tell them that their closets are a shame. right.Well. Because it's really embarrassing.It was time to clean up there, and my foot hit the bucket. Wait a moment.Tsk!Did you say you hurt your foot because those people can't keep the closet clean?You should tell them that you have always been used to cleaning in your hometown. I am. Oh, I believe, Miss Dirtyfoot. Her face was so pretty, with joy in it.I want to kiss her.But no, no, no, no.Don't get carried away, boy. A snowmelt does not mean summer.That's it.I thought of an idea that might prolong this happy atmosphere, do you want to see the king? Hortens watched the street from the upper deck of the bus, and I watched her.Every time the bus passed a scenic spot, she was so excited that even her well-trained calm personality couldn't stop her from screaming: Look, that's Piccadilly Circus!I read it in a book.That statue is called the Greek God of Love.She was full of joy, and turned her head to try to see clearly.Her happy eyes rested on everything, pointing to me one by one.Gilbert, can you see that?That's Parliament, and that big clock is called Big Ben.Although I have seen these scenes many times, I also drilled my head and pretended to be happy.She was very satisfied with the scenery she saw from the upper deck of the bus, so she held her hands as if on the steering wheel and said: Sitting here can pretend to be a bus driver.However, I couldn't fake the excitement of this particular experience.Oh, bus driver, God!Judging by my fate, maybe one day I will actually become a bus driver. There's a shameless pigeon in Trafalgar Square dropping excrement on her coat sleeve.She asked me: Is your handkerchief still there? Excuse me, madam, but where is your own Sunday handkerchief? She told me: My handkerchief is fine, but yours is a dirty rag.She left me speechless.After wiping the clump of compost off, she screamed again as two more birds landed on her head.Get them down I don't like these birds.She ran in small circles, waving her hands to scare the bird off her head. So now you need my help? Please, Gilbert. I snapped the bird off her head.What do you think of Nelson? She said: "He had too many birds. She gasped, respectful like a devout believer before the altar, and expressed her surprise at Buckingham Palace.She said: So majestic.A little girl with a doll touched her arm and ran away.As soon as the little girl left, another little boy followed suit.Feeling his touch, Hortens turned around and said to the little boy: What's the matter? The little boy looked up into her face with the same expression that Hortens used to look up at Buckingham Palace.You are black.After speaking, he ran away.Suddenly aware of the people around him, Hortens straightened his hat and pulled up his gloves. I asked her: Do you like Buckingham Palace? She replied firmly: I read it in a book. I told her: Hortens, everyone has been staring at us. She replied to me: I just ignore them. Well, because you know what?King has the same problem.But she has her nose up, and I'm afraid I'll lose her again.I bumped her with my elbow.Come on, let's walk around the mall like kings and queens.But she breathed in between her teeth and averted her eyes from me. I bought her a cup of tea and a piece of cake in the cafe.Why would you waste money on cakes?She asked me, this will spoil your appetite and make you not want to eat what I cook. Oh, how I wish so, that's what I thought.Of course I didn't say it, because the woman's mood was gloomy again, like the cold dark fog I saw from the window of the cafe.Who knows how long we sat there in silence eating cake and sipping tea?I don't know, because three brothers came over and gave me a happy nod and a wink at Hortens, like, Well, man, you've got a beautiful colored lady. Hortens asked: Do you know any of these people? I told her: They are fellow villagers. Do you know them all? I know they are fellow countrymen. But you don't know them? do not know.But I know they are fellow countrymen.I didn't tell her that sometimes I was so happy to see a black face that I wanted to run and hug that familiar stranger.She took off a stupid white glove and wiped cake crumbs from her lips.I feel like the snow is melting a little.I'm not a gambler, but I'm going all in on it.So what do you think of London? I used to always dream of coming to London.Her eyes were not on me, but on the tea being stirred in the cup. Well, you see, not everyone can dream come true. And lo and behold, she burst into tears without warning.Damn, I miscalculated.Tears dripped into her teacup.Handkerchiefs were brought out on Sunday.The trembling hand touched the eyes lightly again.I thought about apologizing, but I was afraid that the kind of perfunctory ok ok ok would come out of my careless mouth.I held out a timid hand across the table and placed it in hers.I waited for her to wave my hand away.But she didn't. She said softly: What am I going to do now?I thought I would come here to teach. I told her: Don't worry, I can take care of you. I guessed right, ok ok ok invalid.She roughly pulled her hand away and slapped the table.Tsk, wow, this woman has left me at the end of my rope.I started to say: I am your husband I said it too firmly, I know.Seeing her upturned mouth, I quickly changed my words: Well, well, let's see.What else will you do? She shrugged. can you sew She told me: Of course. Is that of course the kind that you know how to cook?Or do you really know how to sew? I can sew.I have been sewing since I was a child. OK, so I know where you might find work. sewing?She yelled and burst into tears.But I am a teacher. Even if you sew, you will also be a teacher. She sucked it through her teeth in the most unladylike way possible.So I told her: He Tansi, your mother must have never told you that those who know current affairs are brilliant.Look at me, I've been driving a van for so long, but one day I hesitated. How about it? One day I will go to law.Boy, those words sound stupid when you blurt them out.That hopeless dream flew so far away, into the London night sky, that I heard the angels laughing.This time it was my turn to turn around.Because I'm a buffoon with a big mouth. Suddenly her delicate and gentle hand rested gently on mine.I dare not see if her touch is real.My doubts may melt the truth.She put her hand on it for a minute before saying: I can cook. No, you won't. Our teacher, Miss Planttree, said my cakes were the best outside the tea cake shops in South England. Have your teachers eaten? certainly. And she still said it was better than what she ate in the tea cake shop? right. Did she mention where the store is?Because we must never eat there. Are you kidding me, Gilbert?Joseph?Just as she was saying this, another fellow countryman came to our table.He is old and cold.Two scarves covered his head, and a brown hat was pressed on top. It's cold today, isn't it?He smiles with only a few teeth remaining in his mouth. yes sir.I said. He smelled bad, and his brown skin was dirty and dusty.It was a bit difficult for him to salute Holtens by pushing his hat down because it was pushed down too hard.But he finally pushed up.He said: Miss, it is very cold today. Hortens glanced at him, from the scarf wrapped around his head, to his soiled slacks, to his dirty shoes.She quickly looked around, and in a blink of an eye, she brought her eyes back to this person.She replied: I have found that this is a very cold country. The man pushed the hat again.Ah, very cold, miss.He muttered to himself and went on: Very cold.