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Frederic, Harold, 1856-1898

"The Market-Place"


Then he turned and came back into the room with the buoyant
air of a man whose affairs are prospering.
He smiled genially to himself as he gathered from the table
in one capacious hand all the pieces of bread his beloved
niece had broken up, and advanced again to the open window.
Waiting here till one of the dingy gulls moving aimlessly
about was headed toward him, he tossed out a fragment.
The bird dashed at it with a scream, and on the instant
the whole squawking flock were on wing. He suffered
the hubbub to proceed unappeased for a little while he
kept a watchful though furtive eye on that balcony
to the left, below. Unhappily he could not get out far
enough to see whether the inner curtains of its window
were drawn. He threw another bit of bread, and then
looked at his watch. It was a few minutes past nine.
Surely people travelling to see scenery would be up by
this hour.
The strategy of issuing just enough bread to keep the
feathered concourse in motion commended itself to his mind.
As a precautionary measure, he took all the rolls remaining on
the table, and put them in the drawer of a desk by the window.
It even occurred to him to ring for more bread, but upon
consideration that seemed too daring. The waiter would
be sufficiently surprised at the party's appetites as it was.


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