(no subject)

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Evening: two dark figures appear at the edge of the woods, deep in consultation, heads bent close together. As they pass from woods to meadow, their voices carry through the gathering dusk: but what are they saying?

"Are there any more of those left?" Lesgle leans over and plucks the bag from Joly's hands and fumbles about with it a bit. "I think we might have finished them...oh, hullo, look! It's Milliways again! We're home! And...'oh, hullo, look' again, it's Feuilly, out walking his dogs! Harry Percy's dogs? Whose dogs would you say they are, Jolllly my dear? At any rate, a lovely welcoming sight, for two heroes returned to their almost-but-not-really-at-all-native soil! Say! SAY! FEUILLY! GUESS WHERE WE'VE BEEN! --He'll never guess, poor fellow; we'll have to tell him about it. Come, my dear, let's catch up to him. Oh, mind your step in the dark--"

Comments

[merryeccentricities]

Joly trips anyway, grabbing Bossuet's arm against a fall, and laughing in a way that suggests a certain boost even to his own good spirits. " Too late! Too late! --Oh, you're making a habit of warning me late, letting me fall into perilous clutches, it's too bad-- oh, it's Feuilly!" A delightful surprising discovery!
"FEUILLY, HELLOOOOO FEUILLY! Oh , it's the dogs. Well--well they're good dogs! Good dogs. Not like some dogs we have met. I'm sure Feuilly wouldn't keep dogs like them. Feuilly, you wouldn't keep dogs who asked very unpleasant questions and ate your dinner away, would you?"