Explore "The Wrackham Memoirs" by May Sinclair on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
He had been thinking of it for some considerable time. That pilgrimage was my last -- it'll be two years ago this autumn -- and it was in the spring of last year he died.
He was happy in his death. It saved him from the thing he dreaded above everything, certainty of the ultimate extinction. It has not come yet. We are feeling still the long reverberation of his vogue. We miss him still in the gleam, the jest gone forever from the papers. There is no doubt but that his death staved off the ultimate extinction. It revived the public interest in him. It jogged the feeble pulse of his once vast circulation. It brought the familiar portrait back again into the papers, between the long, long columns. And there was more laurel and a larger crowd at Brookwood than on the day when we first met him in the churchyard at Chenies.