OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Works of H. G. Wells (Atlantic Edition)/The Wonderful Visit/Chapter 39

§ 39
The Vicar's table-talk at dinner that night, after the Angel had stated his case, was full of grim explanations, prisons, madness.
"It's too late to tell the truth about you now," said the Vicar. "Besides, that's impossible. I really do not know what to say. We must face our circumstances, I suppose. I am so undecided—so torn. It's the two worlds. If your Angelic world were only a dream, or if this world were only a dream—or if I could believe either or both dreams, it would be all right with me. But here is a real Angel and a real summons—how to reconcile them I do not know. I must talk to Gotch.… But he won't understand. Nobody will understand.…"
"I am putting you to terrible inconvenience, I am afraid. My appalling unworldliness———"
"It's not you," said the Vicar. "It's not you. I perceive you have brought something strange and beautiful into my life. It's not you. It's myself. ​If I had more faith either way. If I could believe entirely in this world, and call you an Abnormal Phenomenon, as Crump does. But no. Terrestrial Angelic, Angelic Terrestrial.… Seesaw.
"Still, Gotch is certain to be disagreeable, most disagreeable. He always is. It puts me into his hands. He is a bad moral influence, I know. Drinking. Gambling. Worse. Still, one must render unto Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's. And he is against Disestablishment.…"
Then the Vicar would revert to the social collapse of the afternoon. "You are so very fundamental, you know," he said—several times.
The Angel went to his own room puzzled but very depressed. Every day the world had frowned darker upon him and his Angelic ways. He could see how the trouble affected the Vicar, yet he could not imagine how he could avert it. It was all so strange and unreasonable. Twice again, too, he had been pelted out of the village.
He found the violin lying on his bed where he had laid it before dinner. And taking it up he began to play to comfort himself. But now he played no delicious vision of the Angelic Land. The iron of the world was entering into his soul. For a week now he had known pain and rejection, suspicion and hatred; a strange new spirit of revolt was growing up in his heart. He played a melody, still sweet and tender as those of the Angelic Land, but charged with a new note, the note of human sorrow and effort, now swelling into something like defiance, dying now into a plaintive sadness. He played softly, playing to ​himself to comfort himself, but the Vicar heard, and all his finite bothers were swallowed up in a hazy melancholy, a melancholy that was quite remote from sorrow. And besides the Vicar, the Angel had another hearer of whom neither Angel nor Vicar was thinking.
# The Works of H. G. Wells (Atlantic Edition)/The Wonderful Visit/Chapter 32

§ 32
The Angel came thoughtfully by the hedge across the field towards the Vicarage. The rays of the setting sun shone on his shoulders, and touched the Vicarage with gold, and blazed like fire in all the windows. By the gate, bathed in the sunlight, stood little Delia, the waiting-maid. She stood watching him under her hand. It suddenly came into the Angel's mind that she at least was beautiful, and not only beautiful but alive and warm.
She opened the gate for him and stood aside. She ​was sorry for him, for her elder sister was a cripple. He bowed to her, as he would have done to any woman, and for just one moment looked into her face. She looked back at him and something leaped within her.
The Angel made an irresolute movement. "Your eyes are very beautiful," he said quietly, with a remote wonder in his voice.
"Oh, sir!" she said, starting back. The Angel's expression changed to perplexity. He went on up the pathway between the Vicar's flower-beds, and she stood with the gate held open in her hand, staring after him. Just under the rose-twined verandah he turned and looked at her.
She still stared at him for a moment, and then with a queer gesture turned round with her back to him, shutting the gate as she did so, and seemed to be looking down the valley towards the church tower.
# The Works of H. G. Wells (Atlantic Edition)/The Wonderful Visit/Chapter 36

§ 36
This section is (so far as my memory goes) the shortest in the book.
But the enormity of the offence necessitates the separation of this section from all other sections.
The Vicar, you must understand, had done his best to inculcate the recognised differentiæ of a gentleman. "Never allow a lady to carry anything," said the Vicar. "Say, 'permit me' and relieve her." "Always stand until every lady is seated." "Always rise and open a door for a lady…" and so forth. (All men who have elder sisters know that code.)
And the Angel (who had failed to relieve Lady Hammergallow of her teacup) danced forward with astonishing dexterity (leaving Mrs. Jehoram in the window-seat) and with an elegant "permit me" rescued the tea-tray from Lady Hammergallow's pretty parlour-maid and vanished officiously in front ​of her. The Vicar rose to his feet with an inarticulate cry.
# The Works of H. G. Wells (Atlantic Edition)/The Wonderful Visit/Chapter 37

§ 37
"He's drunk!" said Mr. Rathbone Slater, breaking a terrific silence. "That's the matter with him."
Mrs. Jehoram laughed hysterically.
The Vicar stood up, motionless, staring. "Oh! I forgot to explain servants to him!" said the Vicar to himself in a swift outbreak of remorse. "I thought he did understand servants."
"Really, Mr. Hillyer!" said Lady Hammergallow, evidently exercising enormous self-control and speaking in panting spasms. "Really, Mr. Hillyer! Your genius is too terrible. I must, I really must, ask you to take him home."
So to the dialogue in the corridor of alarmed maid-servant and well-meaning (but shockingly gauche) Angel—appears the Vicar, his botryoidal little face crimson, gaunt despair in his eyes, and his necktie under his left ear.
"Come," he said—struggling with emotion. "Come away.… I… I am disgraced for ever."
And the Angel stared for a second at him and obeyed meekly, perceiving himself in the presence of unknown but evidently terrible forces.
In the informal indignation meeting that followed, Lady Hammergallow took the (informal) chair. "I feel humiliated," she said. "The Vicar assured me he was an exquisite player. I never imagined…"
"He was drunk," said Mr. Rathbone Slater. "You could tell it from the way he fumbled with his tea."
​"Such a fiasco!" said Mrs. Mergle.
"The Vicar assured me," said Lady Hammergallow. "'The man I have staying with me is a musical genius,' he said. His very words."
"His ears must be burning anyhow," said Tommy Rathbone Slater.
"I was trying to keep him Quiet," said Mrs. Jehoram. "By humouring him. And do you know the things he said to me—there!"
"The thing he played," said Mr. Wilmerdings, "—I must confess I did not like to charge him to his face. But really! It was merely drifting."
"Just fooling with a fiddle, eigh?" said George Harringay. "Well I thought it was beyond me. So much of your fine music is———"
"Oh, George!" said the younger Miss Pirbright.
"The Vicar was a bit on, too—to judge by his tie," said Mr. Rathbone Slater. "It's a dashed rummy go. Did you notice how he fussed after the genius?"
"One has to be so very careful," said the very eldest Miss Papaver.
"He told me he is love with the Vicar's housemaid!" said Mrs. Jehoram. "I almost laughed in his face."
"The Vicar ought never to have brought him here," said Mrs. Rathbone Slater with decision.
# The Works of H. G. Wells (Atlantic Edition)/The Wonderful Visit/Chapter 35

§ 35
Mrs. Jehoram and the Angel apart—Mr. Wilmerdings playing.
"I have so longed for a quiet word with you," said Mrs. Jehoram in a low tone. "To tell you how delightful I found your playing."
"I am glad it pleased you," said the Angel.
"Pleased is scarcely the word," said Mrs. Jehoram. "I was moved—profoundly. These others did not understand… I was glad you did not play with him."
The Angel looked at the mechanism called Wilmerdings, and felt glad too. (The Angelic conception of duets is a kind of conversation upon violins.) But he said nothing.
"I worship music," said Mrs. Jehoram. "I know nothing about it technically, but there is something in it—a longing, a wish.…"
The Angel stared at her face. She met his eyes.
"You understand," she said. "I see you understand." He was certainly a very nice boy, sentimentally precocious perhaps, and with deliciously liquid eyes.
There was an interval of Chopin (Op. 40) played with immense precision.
Mrs. Jehoram had a sweet face still, in shadow, with the light falling round her golden hair, and a curious theory flashed across the Angel's mind. The perceptible powder only supported his view of ​something infinitely bright and lovable caught, tarnished, coarsened, coated over.
"Do you?" said the Angel in a low tone. "Are you… separated from… your world?"
"As you are?" whispered Mrs. Jehoram.
"This is so—cold," said the Angel. "So harsh!" He meant the whole world.
"I feel it too," said Mrs. Jehoram, referring to Siddermorton House.
"There are those who cannot live without sympathy," she said after a sympathetic pause. "And times when one feels alone in the world. Fighting a battle against it all. Laughing, flirting, hiding the pain of it.…"
"And hoping," said the Angel with a wonderful glance— "Yes."
Mrs. Jehoram (who was an epicure of flirtations) felt the Angel was more than redeeming the promise of his appearance. (Indisputably he worshipped her.) "Do you look for sympathy?" she said. "Or have you found it?"
"I think," said the Angel, very softly, leaning forward, "I think I have found it."
Interval of Chopin Op. 40. The very eldest Miss Papaver and Mrs. Pirbright whispering. Lady Hammergallow (glasses up) looking down the saloon with an unfriendly expression at the Angel. Mrs. Jehoram and the Angel exchanging deep and significant glances.
"Her name," said the Angel (Mrs. Jehoram made a movement) "is Delia. She is…"
"Delia!" said Mrs. Jehoram sharply, slowly ​realising a terrible misunderstanding. "A fanciful name.… Why!… No! Not that little housemaid at the Vicarage?…"
The Polonaise terminated with a flourish. The Angel was quite surprised at the change in Mrs. Jehoram's expression.
"I never did!" said Mrs. Jehoram recovering. "To make me your confidante in an intrigue with a servant. Really, Mr. Angel, it's possible to be too original.…"
Then suddenly their colloquy was interrupted.
# The Works of H. G. Wells (Atlantic Edition)/The Wonderful Visit/Chapter 4

§ 4
If it were not for collectors England would be full, so to speak, of rare birds and wonderful ​butterflies, strange flowers and a thousand interesting things. But happily the collector prevents all that, either killing with his own hands or, by buying extravagantly, procuring people of the lower classes to kill such eccentricities as appear. It makes work for people, even though Acts of Parliament interfere. In this way, for instance, he is killing off the chough in Cornwall, the Bath white butterfly, the Queen of Spain Fritillary; and can plume himself upon the extermination of the Great Auk, and a hundred other rare birds and plants and insects. All that is the work of the collector and his glory alone. In the name of Science. And this is right and as it should be; eccentricity, in fact, is immorality—think over it again if you do not think so now—just as eccentricity in one's way of thinking is madness (I defy you to find another definition that will fit all the cases of either); and if a species is rare it follows that it is not Fitted to Survive. The collector is after all merely like the foot soldier in the days of heavy armour—he leaves the combatants alone and cuts the throats of those who are overthrown. So one may go through England from end to end in the summer time and see only eight or ten commonplace wild flowers, and the commoner butterflies, and a dozen or so common birds, and never be offended by any breach of the monotony, any splash of strange blossom or flutter of unknown wing. All the rest have been "collected" years ago. For which cause we should all love Collectors, and bear in mind what we owe them when their collections are displayed. These camphorated little drawers of theirs, their glass cases and blotting​ paper books, are the graves of the Rare and the Beautiful, the symbols of the Triumph of Leisure (morally spent) over the Delights of Life. (All of which, as you very properly remark, has nothing whatever to do with the Strange Bird.)
# The Works of H. G. Wells (Atlantic Edition)/The Wonderful Visit/Chapter 33

§ 33
At the dinner table the Angel told the Vicar the more striking of his day's adventures.
"The strange thing," said the Angel, "is the readiness of you Human Beings—the zest, with which you inflict pain. Those boys pelting me this morning———"
"Seemed to enjoy it," said the Vicar. "I know."
"Yet they don't like pain," said the Angel.
"No," said the Vicar; "they don't like it."
"Then," said the Angel, "I saw some beautiful plants rising with a spike of leaves, two this way and ​two that, and when I caressed one it caused the most uncomfortable———"
"Stinging nettle!" said the Vicar.
"At any rate a new sort of pain. And another plant with a head like a coronet, and richly decorated leaves, spiked and jagged———"
"A thistle, possibly."
"And in your garden, the beautiful, sweet-smelling plant———"
"The sweet brier," said the Vicar. "I remember."
"And that pink flower that sprang out of the box———"
"Out of the box?" said the Vicar.
"Last night," said the Angel, "that went climbing up the curtains——— Flame!"
"Oh!—the matches and the candles! Yes," said the Vicar.
"Then the animals. A dog to-day behaved most disagreeably——— And these boys, and the way in which people speak——— Every one seems anxious—willing at any rate—to give this Pain. Every one seems busy giving pain———"
"Or avoiding it," said the Vicar, pushing his dinner away before him. "Yes—of course. It's fighting everywhere. The whole living world is a battle-field—the whole world. We are driven by Pain. Here. How it lies on the surface! This Angel sees it in a day!"
"But why does every one—everything—want to give pain?" asked the Angel.
"It is not so in the Angelic Land?" said the Vicar.
"No," said the Angel. "Why is it so here?"
​The Vicar wiped his lips with his napkin slowly. "It is so," he said. "Pain," said he still more slowly, "is the warp and the woof of this life. Do you know," he said, after a pause, "it is almost impossible for me to imagine… a world without pain.… And yet, as you played this morning———"
"But this world is different. It is the very reverse of an Angelic world. Indeed, a number of people—excellent religious people—have been so impressed by the universality of pain that they think, after death, things will be even worse for a great many of us. It seems to me an excessive view. But it's a deep question. Almost beyond ones power of discussion———"
And incontinently the Vicar plumped into an impromptu dissertation upon "Necessity," how things were so because they were so, how one had to do this and that. "Even our food," said the Vicar. "What?" said the Angel. "Is not obtained without inflicting pain," said the Vicar.
The Angel's face went so white that the Vicar checked himself suddenly. Or he was just on the very verge of a concise explanation of the antecedents of a leg of lamb. There was a pause.
"By the bye," said the Angel suddenly, "have you been pithed? Like the common people."
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Gartside-Spaight, Brig.-Gen. Cavendish Walter

​GARTSIDE-SPAIGHT, Brig.-Gen. Cavendish Walter; served in S. African War, 1900-1 (despatches); Major A.S.C.. 1900 (ret. 1905); Dep. Asst. Dir. of Remounts, Irish Command, 1910-14: D.Q.M.G. in 1915; ret. with rank of Brig.-Gen., 1916: third son of late Gartside Gartside-Tipping, J.P., of Rossferry, Co. Fermanagh, and Little Bolton, Lanes.; b. 1857; m. 1889, Louisa Dorina, dau. of late Col. George Campbell Spaight, of Derry Castle, Co. Tipperary; assumed by royal licence surname and arms of Gartside-Spaight, 1898. Res.: Derry Castle, Killaloe, Co. Clare.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Galway and Kilmacduagh

The Most Rev. Thomas O'Dea
​GALWAY and KILMACDUAGH, Bishop of and Apostolical Administrator of Kilfenora. The Most Rev. Thomas O'Dea, D.D. Educ. at St. Patrick's College, Maynooth; appointed Professor of Theology, 1882. and Vice-President, 1894: Consecrated Bishop of Clonfert, 30th Aug., 1903, and transferred to Bishopric of Galway, April, 1909; Member of the Board of Intermediate Education in Ireland, 1914, and of Senate of National University of Ireland. Res.: Galway.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Gamble, Charles George

​GAMBLE, Charles George, B.A. (T.C.D.): Ex-President Incorporated Law Society of Ireland; J.P. Co. Dublin; Senator in Irish Parliament of 1921, under Act of 1920; eldest son of late Major George F. Gamble. Recns.: shooting, fishing, and golf. Res.: Knocksinna, Foxrock, Co. Dublin.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Garrett, Edmund William

​GARRETT, Edmund William, M.A. (Cantab.); Barrister Inner Temple, 1875; J.P., Co. London and Home Counties; Metropol. Police Magist.. South- Western Court, 1899-1905; W. London, 1905-14; Marylebone. 1914-16; Bow Street, 1916-20; only son of late Henry Garrett, of Cromac House, Co. Antrim: b. 1850; m. 1878 Frances, dau. of late John Andrews, J.P., of Comber, Co. Down. Res.: Ardeevin, Downs Avenue, Epsom, Surrey.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Garland, Patrick Joseph

​GARLAND, Patrick Joseph, C.M.G. (1909): L.R.C.P. & S.I.; was Assistant Colonial Surgeon, Gold Coast, 1904-1911; Senior Medical Officer, Northern Territories, W. Africa, 1899; served Fra-Fra Expeditions, 1899 and 1900; (despatches Neutral Zone Expedition 1900 (despatches Ashanti rebellion (despatches, medal and ​clasp); District Commissioner Axim, 1901-04: Deputy Principal Medical Officer, Accra, Gold Coast; received thanks of Secretary of State for services during plague at Accra, 1908; awarded Arnott Memorial Medal, 1913; Medical Officer Dunganstown Dispensary, Co. Wicklow: son of Edward Garland, of Dublin; b. 1867; m. Irene Winefrid Figg. Res.: Barndarrig, Co, Wicklow.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Garraway, Lieut.-Col. Edward Charles Frederick

​GARRAWAY, Lieut.-Col. Edward Charles Frederick, C.M.G. (1911), L.R.C.S.I. Educ. at Waterford Diocesan School, and at Trinity College, Dublin; served in Matabeleland, 1893-4 and 1897; in S. Africa, 1899-1902; was a Dist. Surg. Millwood, Kynsna, Cape Colony, 1888-91; Surg. Bechuanaland Border Police, 1892-4: Senior Surg. British S. Africa Police 1895-1900; Div. Med. Officer, S. Africa Constabulary, 1901-5; Principal Med. Officer, 1905-8; Military Secretary to Governor General and Com.-in-Chief, Union of S. Africa, with rank of Major, 1908-13; Member of S. Rhodesia Native Reserves Commission, 1914-15; appointed Resident Commissioner, Bechuanaland Protectorate 1915, and Basutoland, 1917, and Lieut.-Col. Comdg. Police there, 1916; eldest son of the late Col. Charles Sutton Garraway, of Rockshire, Ferrybank, Waterford b. 1865: m. 1905 Winifred Mary, eldest dau. of Thomas H. Harvey, of Blackbrook Grove, Fareham, Hants; cr. C.M.G., 1911. Res.: The Residence, Maserw, Basutoland; Rockshire, Waterford.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Garvey, John

​GARVEY, John, D.L., O.B.E. (1919), M.A. (T.C.D.); younger son of the late John C. Garvey, D.L., of Murrisk Abbey, Westport. Mrs. Harrie Garvey (wife), M.B.E., was for six years Master of North Mayo Hounds: eldest son, Capt. Ivan Garvey, M.C. Connaught Rangers, killed in France, 1917; younger son, Lieut. Douglas Garvey, R.N., Commanded a Destroyer during latter years of Great War; two daus., Lora Maud Garvey, and Sheelagh (now Crawford), wife of Lieut. Stuart Crawford, R.F.A. Res.: Downhill, Ballina, Co. Mayo. Clubs: University and Friendly Brothers, Dublin.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Gannon, John Patrick

​GANNON, John Patrick, M.R.I.A., J.P. for Co. Kildare. Educ. at Clongowes and Trinity College, Dublin (Vice-Chancellor and Berkeley Medallist); member of the Society for Preserving the Irish Language; author of A Review of Irish History; The Plaint of the English Muse; eldest son of late Nicholas John Gannon, J.P., of Laragh, Co. Kildare, and Eliza Patricia, dau. of Aeneas Macdonnell; b. 1856. Res.: Laragh, Maynooth, Co Kildare.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Gartlan, Alexander

​GARTLAN, Alexander. Educ. at Tullabeg College; admitted a Solicitor, 1875; Crown Solicitor for Co, Louth since 1912; son of late George Henry Gartlan, J.P., of Cabra House. Co. Down, and Mary, dau. of Alexander MacMullan: b. 1852; m. 1882, Emily, dau. of late Arthur Hamill, County Court Judge of Roscommon and Sligo, and has issue one son, three daus. Res.: Downshire Road, Newry, Co. Down.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Garvagh, Baron

Leopold Stratford George Canning, 4th Baron
​GARVAGH, Baron (Irld., 1818), Leopold Stratford George Canning, 4th Baron; Lieut. Royal Flying Corps; late Lieut. 4th Batt. H.L.I.; D.L., J.P., Co. Londonderry; son of Charles John Spencer George, 3rd Baron, and Baroness Alice Florence de Bretton, dau of Baron Joseph de Brett on, of Copenhagen; b. 21st July, 1878; s. his father, 8th Jan., 1915; m., 1st Jan., 1919, Dora (mar. diss. 1909), dau. of the late W. Bayley Parker, of Edgbaston; 2nd, 1919, Gladys Dora May, widow of Major D. M. Dimmer, V.C, and dau. of Bayley Parker, of Edgbaston, Birmingham, and has issue by 1st mar. one son, one dau. Res.: 4 Orme Square, London, W.2.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Francis, M. E.

​FRANCIS, M. E., dramatic author. Educ.: privately, at home, and at Brussels; has written the following plays: "The Widow Woos" (with Sydney Valentine), "Olf and the Little Maid," "The Third Time of Asking," "Fiander's Widow" (with Sydney Valentine), "Tom's Second Missus," etc.; dau. of Michael James Sweetman, of Killiney, Co. Dublin: m. Francis Nicholl Blundell (dec). Res.: The Manor House, Blandford, Dorset.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/French, Hon. Charles

​FRENCH, Hon. Charles, J.P. Co. Roscommon (High Sheriff, 1887); M.P. for Roscommon, 1873-80. Educ.: Downside; son of 3rd Baron de Freyne; b. 1851; m. 1880, Constance, 2nd dau. of Lieut.-Col. C. R. Chichester, of Runnamoat, Co. Roscommon. Res.: Lough Erritt, Loughglynn, Castlerea, Co. Roscommon; Headlands, Dalmeny Road, Southbourne-on-Sea, Hants.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Fottrell, Sir George

​FOTTRELL, Sir George, K.C.B. (1919); Clerk of the Crown and Peace, County and City of Dublin; b. 6th Feb., 1849; son of late George Drevar Fottrell, Solicitor; m. 1872, Mary, dau. of William Watson, Dublin; one son, five daus. Educ.; Belvedere College, Dublin; Catholic University of Ireland. Res.: 8 North Great George's Street, Dublin; Dunmara, Ballybrack, Co. Dublin. Clubs; Reform, Stephen's Green, Dublin; Royal Irish Yacht, Kingstown.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Fowler, Capt. Robert Henry

​FOWLER, Capt. Robert Henry, D.L., J.P., Co. Meath; late Capt. 85th King's L.I.; eldest son of late Robert Fowler, D.L., J.P., of Rahinstown, Co. Meath; b. 1857; m. 1890, Mabel (d. 1919), dau. of late Hon. R. St. Leger Glyn. Res.: Rahinston, Enfield, Co. Meath. Kildare Street Club, Dublin.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Fox, The

​FOX, The (Major Brabazon-Hubert Maine Fox, styled The Fox, as chief of his name), originally O'Sionnach (anglicised Fox), descended by direct male descent from Maine, 5th son of King Niall of the Nine Hostages, monarch of All Ireland; eldest son of James George Hubert Fox (The Fox). late 5th Royal Irish Lancers, who died Jan., 1919, of Galtrim House, Co. Meath; b. 6th Nov., 1868; m. in 1896,; Florence Emily Clara Le Mott6e, eldest dau. of Lieut.-Col. W. E. A. Le Mottée of Templenoe, Fermoy, late Royal Irish Regt, (one son, Capt. Nial Arthur Hubert Fox, the Royal Irish Regt.); b. 1897; joined the Royal Irish Rifles in 1888; served in India, Adjt. 9th Vol. Batt. The Norfolk Regt., 1904-1906; served in the Great War, 1914-18, and appointed Major, 2nd in Command of the 9th Service Batt. of the South Lancs. Regt., serving with the Regt. in France and Macedonia. Decorations: Bronze Star, 1914-15, Br. War Medal, and Victory medal. The Fox is a J.P. for Co. Meath. Fellow of the R.I.S. of Antiquaries. Member of the R. Dublin Society. Club: The University Club, Dublin. Recns.: hunting, riding, shooting. Seat: Galtrim House, Summerhill, Co. Meath.