Explore "The Jingo" by George Randolph Chester on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It was true that Birrquay was dead. The king, and Jimmy, and Teddy had seen him, but Bezzanna was glad that she had not. She wanted to remember him, if she could, as being still alive and happy, and still absurdly conscious of his nose, but as just having gone away, and she tried piteously to make it seem that way, as they drove home in the big torpedo; but no, he was dead!
It had promised to be such a happy night, and, even now, the moon, almost at the full, was shining as serenely down on the peaceful meadows, freshly tufted with delicate green, and on the trees, still clothed in the freshness of their first tender leaves, as if there had been no pain or sorrow or misery in all the world, and no murder in the hearts of men.