1920-22 Draft of the Seven Pillars of Wisdom – Page 201

He was walking quickly for his age. He seemed so through as he had one arm in his pocket and squinted his eyes while the smoke from his cigarette curled about him. He had an attentive air of alertness about him as he strode towards the edge of town. It was not a hurry but rather a sense of purpose that propelled him forward. As we came down the shallow slope and across the crude main street, a mounted and stripped-down version of the valley town began to unfurl itself into a dimmed flare. How he could continue his mission at such an hour, I suppose I'll never quite know. Not like him to idle by the village stoop or to partake of the day. Nary a town man like him would care to pry into the gossip and clamor rife here. I did think he looked at least mildly curious, for my grandmother's loud Gaelic whistled and swayed from an unseen parlor. That day wore at least moderately curious, for my grandmother's loud Gaelic whistled and swayed from an unseen parlor. The tune, sharp as a rusty needle, crooned down the avenue toward the curling roofs of our peaceful townsfolk. Curious, the winds beguiled everything into reverence that morning. With an air of deference, nature had laid out its fresh linens smoothly for her humble visit. Her shrill shrieks were the only sounds to pierce the censure. In truth, she seemed hell-bent on scaring the town or at least the local wild turkeys into some kind of reckoning. We made it to the center of town, where he bade me take a left. At some point I lost track of his steady figure. Yet now I could not be sure he wished me to follow further...