large/1336/the_camp_of_the_dog_librivox_64kb_mp3/camp_of_the_dog_1_blackwood_cb_64kb_59
large/1336/the_camp_of_the_dog_librivox_64kb_mp3/camp_of_the_dog_1_blackwood_cb_64kb
English
1336
Here she was at home; in London she became some one concealed by clothes, an artificial doll overdressed and moving by clockwork, only a portion of her alive. Here she was alive all over. HERE SHE WAS AT HOME IN LONDON SHE BECAME SOME ONE CONCEALED BY CLOTHES AN ARTIFICIAL DOLL OVERDRESSED AND MOVING BY CLOCKWORK ONLY A PORTION OF HER ALIVE HERE SHE WAS ALIVE ALL OVER
 Joan Maloney, the daughter, was the one who seemed a natural and genuine part of the landscape, who belonged to it all just in the same way that the trees and the moss and the grey rocks running out into the water belonged to it. For she was obviously in her right and natural setting, a creature of the wilds, a gipsy in her own home. To any one with a discerning eye this would have been more or less apparent, but to me, who had known her during all the twenty-two years of her life and was familiar with the ins and outs of her primitive, utterly un-modern type, it was strikingly clear. To see her there made it impossible to imagine her again in civilisation. I lost all recollection of how she looked in a town. The memory somehow evaporated. This slim creature before me, flitting to and fro with the grace of the woodland life, swift, supple, adroit, on her knees blowing the fire, or stirring the frying-pan through a veil of smoke, suddenly seemed the only way I had ever really seen her. OTHER MEMBER OF THE PARTY JOAN MALONEY THE DAUGHTER WAS THE ONE WHO SEEMED A NATURAL AND GENUINE PART OF THE LANDSCAPE WHO BELONGED TO IT ALL JUST IN THE SAME WAY THAT THE TREES AND THE MOSS AND THE GREY ROCKS RUNNING OUT INTO THE WATER BELONGED TO IT FOR SHE WAS OBVIOUSLY IN HER RIGHT AND NATURAL SETTING A CREATURE OF THE WILDS A GIPSY IN HER OWN HOME TO ANYONE WITH A DISCERNING EYE THIS WOULD HAVE BEEN MORE OR LESS APPARENT BUT TO ME WHO HAD KNOWN HER DURING ALL THE TWENTY TWO YEARS OF HER LIFE AND WAS FAMILIAR WITH THE INS AND OUTS OF HER PRIMITIVE UTTERLY UNMODERN TYPE IT WAS STRIKINGLY CLEAR TO SEE HER THERE MADE IT IMPOSSIBLE TO IMAGINE HER AGAIN IN CIVILIZATION I LOST ALL RECOLLECTION OF HOW SHE LOOKED IN A TOWN THE MEMORY SOMEHOW EVAPORATED THIS SLIM CREATURE BEFORE ME FLITTING TO AND FRO WITH THE GRACE OF THE WOODLAND LIFE SWIFT SUPPLE ADROIT ON HER KNEES BLOWING THE FIRE OR STIRRING THE FRYING PAN THROUGH A VEIL OF SMOKE SUDDENLY SEEMED THE ONLY WAY I HAD EVER REALLY SEEN HER
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