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Kemp, Harry, 1883-1960

"Tramping on Life An Autobiographical Narrative"

.. how old are you?"
I told her I was just sixteen.
"Do you think I'm ... I'm too young?" I asked.
"I feel as if I was your mother ... and I'm not much over twenty ... but
do sit up on a chair, dear!"
She stood on her feet, shook out her dress, smiled curiously, and
started out of the room. I was up and after her, my arms around her
waist, desperate. She slid around in my arms, laughing quietly to
herself till the back of her head was against my mouth. I kissed and
kissed the top of her head. Then she turned slowly to face me, pressing
all the contours of her body into me ... she crushed her bosom to mine.
Already I was quite tall; and she was stocky and short ... she lifted
her face up to me, a curious kindling light in her eyes ... of a
phosphorescent, greenish lustre, like those chance gleams in a cat's
eyes you catch at night....
She took my little finger and deliberately bit it ... then she leaned
away from my seeking mouth, my convulsive arms....
"You want too much, all at once," she said, and, whirling about broke
away....
With the table between me and her....
"Wouldn't you like a little beer, and some sandwiches? I have some in
the ice box.... _Do_ let's have some beer and sandwiches."
I assented, though hating the bitter taste of beer, and hungry for her
instead of sandwiches. And soon we were sitting down calmly at the
table, or rather, she was sitting down calmly .


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