Explore "Memoirs of a Midget" by Walter de la Mare on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
So it was with a deep sigh -- half of regret at being called away, and all of joy at the thought of seeing my old friend again -- that I followed Marvell's coattails over the threshold. With a silly, animal-like affection I brushed purposely against Fanny's skirts as I passed her by; and even smirked in a kind of secret triumph at Percy Maudlen, who happened to be idling on the staircase as I hastened from room to room.
The door of the library closed gently behind me, as if with a breath of peace. I paused -- looked across. Sir Walter was standing at the further end of its high, daylit, solemn spaciousness. He was deep in contemplation of a white marble bust that graced the lofty chimneypiece -- so rapt, indeed, that until I had walked up into the full stream of sunshine from a nearer window and had announced my approach with a cough, he did not notice my entrance. Then he flicked round with an exclamation of welcome.