IV. What sentence shows that the author was afraid of Pyecraft when he had finished writing the story?

III. What made the author change his attitude towards Pyecraft and write the whole truth about him?

II. How do the passages fit into the story?

I. What is the title of the story the passages come from?

V. Pick out from the passage five active structural patterns. Make up several exercises to activate them. Act as teacher and have the exercises done in class.

IV. What proverbs do you know that might apply in this situation?

III. Write what you think happened when the proprietor of the tailor-shop saw the banknote.

II. How did the man come into possession of the banknote?

I. What is the tille of the story the passage comes from?

XV

1) He sits not a dozen yards away. If I glance over my shoulder I can see him. And if 1 catch his eye - and usually I catch his eye - it meets me with an expression -

It is mainly an imploring look - and yet with suspicion in it. Confound his suspicion! If I wanted to tell on him I should have told long ago. I don't tell and I don't tell, and he ought to feel at ease. Who would believe me if I did tell?

Poor old martyr! The fattest clubman in London. And why does he keep on eternally eating?

He sits at one of the little club tables in the huge bay by the fire, stuffing. What is he stuffing? I glance furtively and catch him biting at the round of hot buttered tea-cake, with his eyes on me. Confound him! - with his eye on me.

That settles it, Pyecraft! Since you will behave as though I was not a man of honour, I'll write the whole thing down - the plain truth about Pyecraft. The man I helped, the man I shielded and who has made my club unendurable, absolutely unendurable, with his eternal appeal, with the perpetual "don't tell" of his looks.

Well, here's the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

2) He did come back.. He does. There he sits behind me now stuffing hot buttered tea-cakes. And no one in the whole world knows - except his housekeeper and me - that he weighs practically nothing; that he is a mere boring mass of assimilatory matters, mere clouds in clothing, and most inconsiderate of men. There he sits watching

until I have done this writing. Then, he will come billowing up to me...

He will tell me over again all about it, how it feels, how it doesn't feel, how he sometimes hopes it is passing off a little. And always somewhere in that fat, abundant discourse he will say, "The secret's keeping, eh? If anyone knew of it I should be so ashamed... Makes a fellow look such a fool, you know. Crawling about on a ceiling and all that..."

And now to elude Pyecraft, occupying, as he does, an admirable strategic position between me and the door.

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

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