Explore "Memoirs of a Midget" by Walter de la Mare on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
My landlady was already awaiting me at the place appointed, and we walked off together towards the house. It had been a prudent arrangement, for we met and passed at least half a dozen strangers before we arrived there, and one and all by the unfeigned astonishment with which they turned to watch our two figures out of sight (for I stooped once or twice, as if to tie my shoelace, in order to see), clearly proved themselves to belong to that type of humanity to which my new acquaintance had referred frigidly as they. Vanity of vanities, when one old loitering gentleman did not so much as lift an eyelid at me -- he was so absorbed in own thoughts -- I felt a pang of annoyance.
As soon as I was safely installed in my own room again, I confided in Mrs. Bowater a full account of my morning's adventure. Not so much because I wished to keep free of any further deceit, as because I simply couldn't contain myself, and must talk of my Stranger. She heard me to the end without question, but with an unusual rigidity of features. She compressed her lips even tighter before beginning her catechism.