Johnyxxx
Senior Member
- Joined
- Oct 28, 2014
- Member Type
- Interested in Language
- Native Language
- Czech
- Home Country
- Czech Republic
- Current Location
- Czech Republic
Hello,
Does the bold text mean the passanger cried to the porter to fetch him a means of transport (a cab)?
The firs that flanked the dreary passenger-shed of the platform stood burdened already with the blackness of coming night. He was elderly, he was obese, his heart was none too sound, at least as compared with his head; yet if he intended to catch the last train home, he had scarcely two hours in which to reach his half-brother's wretched little house, to congratulate him on his guineas, to refuse to accept repayment of his loan, to sneer at his tree, and to return to the station. A bark at a weedy young porter in mittens, with mouth ajar over his long teeth, sent him ambling off for a conveyance. The fruit merchant stood under the shed, in his frieze coat and square, hard hat, and watched the train glide out of the station. The screech of its engine, horning up into the windless air, had exactly expressed his own peculiar sentiments.
The Tree, Walter de la Mare, 192?
Thank you very much.
Does the bold text mean the passanger cried to the porter to fetch him a means of transport (a cab)?
The firs that flanked the dreary passenger-shed of the platform stood burdened already with the blackness of coming night. He was elderly, he was obese, his heart was none too sound, at least as compared with his head; yet if he intended to catch the last train home, he had scarcely two hours in which to reach his half-brother's wretched little house, to congratulate him on his guineas, to refuse to accept repayment of his loan, to sneer at his tree, and to return to the station. A bark at a weedy young porter in mittens, with mouth ajar over his long teeth, sent him ambling off for a conveyance. The fruit merchant stood under the shed, in his frieze coat and square, hard hat, and watched the train glide out of the station. The screech of its engine, horning up into the windless air, had exactly expressed his own peculiar sentiments.
The Tree, Walter de la Mare, 192?
Thank you very much.
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