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‘The pretty nothings, the subtle flatteries of the poet’s talk’

  • Lilian Aldrich
Chapter

Abstract

Nothing in his appearance, excepting the white hair, proclaimed the poet. He was faultlessly dressed; the white waistcoat, the galloon1 on his trousers, all were of the dernier cri. The diamond studs at his breast sparkled and twinkled with mischievous irony, seeming to say: ‘Ah, simple one, where is your lost Leader now? “Just for a handful of silver he left us, just for a ribbon to stick in his coat”.’2 But more disquieting even than the diamond studs was a crush hat, which Mr Browning carried under his arm, and sat upon through the dinner. The words I had longed to say — all the things I had ached to say — vanished; tears of disappointment were in very slight ambush at the pretty nothings, the subtle flatteries of the poet’s talk.

Copyright information

© Palgrave Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited 2000

Authors and Affiliations

  • Lilian Aldrich

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