Hurry on down / John Wain
| dc.contributor | Gilliver, Peter Oxford Dictionaries Oxford University Press Oxford |
| dc.contributor.author | Wain, John |
| dc.coverage.placeName | London |
| dc.date.accessioned | 2018-07-27 |
| dc.date.accessioned | 2022-08-21T16:20:04Z |
| dc.date.available | 2022-08-21T16:20:04Z |
| dc.date.created | 1953 |
| dc.identifier | ota:0530 |
| dc.identifier.uri | http://hdl.handle.net/20.500.14106/0530 |
| dc.description.abstract | Resource deposited with the Oxford Text Archive. |
| dc.format.extent | Text data (1 file : ca. 481 KB) |
| dc.format.medium | Digital bitstream |
| dc.language | English |
| dc.language.iso | eng |
| dc.publisher | University of Oxford |
| dc.relation.ispartof | Oxford Text Archive Legacy Collection |
| dc.rights | Use of this resource is restricted in some manner. Usually this means that it is available for non-commercial use only with prior permission of the depositor and on condition that this header is included in its entirety with any copy distributed. |
| dc.rights.uri | https://hdl.handle.net/20.500.14106/licence-ota |
| dc.rights.label | ACA |
| dc.subject.lcsh | English fiction -- 20th century |
| dc.subject.other | Novels |
| dc.title | Hurry on down / John Wain |
| dc.type | Text |
| has.files | yes |
| branding | Oxford Text Archive |
| files.size | 492457 |
| files.count | 1 |
| otaterms.date.range | 1900-1999 |
Files for this item
- Name
- wain-0530.txt
- Size
- 480.92 KB
- Format
- Text file
- Description
- Version of the work in plain text format
' CAN'T you tell me, Mr. Lumley, just what it is that you don't likc about the rooms?' There was no mistaking the injured truculence in the landlady's voice, nor her expression of superhuman patience about to snap at last. Charles very nearly groaned aloud. Must he explain, point by point, why he hated living there? Her husband's cough in the moming, the way the dog barked every time he went in or out, the greasy mats in the hall? Obviously it was impossible. Why could she not have the grace to accept the polite lie he had toId her? In any case he was bound to stick to it. He looked into her beady, accusing eyes and said as pleasantly as he could, 'Really, Mrs. Smythe, I don't know what's given you the idea that I don't like the rooms. I've always said how comfortable they were. But I told you the other day, I really need something a little nearer my work.' ' And where do you work? I've asked you that two or three times, Mr. Lumley, but you've never gven me any answer.' 'What the hell . . .
