Algernon Blackwood

“ Wearing these sandal-wise, and complaining bitterly of the cold, the two friends eventually resumed their journey arm-in-arm. They spoke little.
“I⁠—er⁠—should like to say thank you,” repeated Mr. Snide, as they presently reached the comparative shelter of the houses. “Your knife⁠—the loan of it⁠—was a great help to me. So small a thing can change the waysh of fate! Indeed, I might say⁠—⁠”
“Oh, please. It’s nothing, Mr. Snide,” interrupted Petershin. ”

“ Petershin, crestfallen and ashamed, tried to pull himself together, and as the mental effort involved also the physical effort of standing erect, he was surprised to find that there was something the matter with his feet. With one foot, that is. The left foot refused to follow the right. Mr. Snide, he became aware, was standing on it. ”

“ Now, please make yourself at home, Pe’shin, my lad.”
Petershin attempted a hasty calculation in his mind, but failed to arrive at a conclusion. Times, trains and distances were too involved for him at the moment. All he knew was that it was now somewhere about 3 o’clock in the morning. “Come in and have a spot,” Mr. Snide was saying pleasantly. “The mills of the godsh grind surely, but they grind uncommon slow. Those whom the godsh love die sooner or later. It’s all ri’. I’ll put the kettle on and find the slippers.⁠ ⁠... We’ll have it hot.” ”

“ Be an optimist, my lad. Those whom the gods love die young⁠—”
“But, I tell you it is,” interrupted Petershin brusquely, thinking his veracity was called in question. “Evershings white already. The air’s thick with it. Like a Chrismhascard.” Then, returning to his seat, he caught his companion’s powerful eye fixed on him. “Mr. Shnide,” he added, with an effort, “beg pardon, but it izsch⁠—reelly.” He sat down, fumbling with his watch. He did not want a disagreement with his superior friend. He made no further comment.
“The nightsh still young,” Mr. Snide mentioned presently. “Let it snow. ”

“ She had noticed, too, his celluloid collar, with a remark he did not quite catch, but an unfavourable remark, he felt sure; because, later, when Petershin advised Mr. Snide to use one, the latter said: “Yes, Petershin, they are practical, I admit, and a saving too, no doubt, but⁠—er⁠—the wife thinks they’re not quite the thing for me, being⁠—as I might say⁠—among books, you see.”
“Reelly they don’t catch fire,” explained Petershin eagerly, not understanding at first what was meant. “There’s not the smallest danger of that sort⁠—”
“A man⁠—the wife holds⁠—is what he wears,” Mr. ”

“ Snide⁠—much later:
“Well⁠—I’ll be getting on, Petershin. Time slips away on rapid wing. The wife’ll be expecting me,” a glance at his friend’s collar conveying the hint that its wearer was not expected to accompany him, and the quotation, if it were such, having its invariable effect. ”

“ The longest-living author of this work died in 1951, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 72 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works. ”