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Dusk Short Summary Class 10

 March 6:30 p.m. Norman Gortsby enjoyed dusk on a bench in London's Hyde Park. Between the railing and bench, bushes were behind him. People left the park before sundown in the bitter cold. Footpaths and narrow indoor paths had fewer pedestrians. The quiet atmosphere reminded him of dusk, when people cared less on their way home after eight pressurised hours at work. He remembered two beloved lines.

"A conquered king must see strange looks; man's heart is bitter." Endless car lights flashed and roared. While looking at them, Gortsby recalled his financial failures, which he saw in many street-lamp-lit wanderers. An old man in tattered clothes sat on the bench, looking destitute and angry, like a lifeless stone. Gortsby felt alone, immersed in dusk. The old man left with his head bowed and moved quietly, leading Gortsby to believe he was trying to avoid confrontation. His hunched figure disappeared into the dusk. Young man with cheery smile filled the empty space left by the old man. He grumbled about everything with justified invective. Gortsby, realising the boy was trying to get his attention, said, "You're annoying." "True. If you were in my situation, you'd be upset, too. Today I made the dumbest mistake "he said. Gortsby said "of course." The youth told the day's events with little encouragement.

"I took a taxi to the Patagonian hotel at Berkshire Square after arriving in the city, but it was closed and a theatre was running there instead. On the taxi driver's recommendation, I went to another hotel. I checked in and sent the new hotel's address to my people. I bought soap because I hate hotel soaps. I didn't know how far I'd walked from the hotel while window shopping. I also had a drink and bought the soap I needed. I couldn't remember the hotel's name or address when I tried to return. So I wandered with just two pence. My only option is to write to my own people, but that won't arrive until tomorrow. 

As Gortsby faced a similar fate with a friend in a foreign capital, he didn't dismiss the young man's story, but he was convinced it was a fabrication. To prove his point, he asked the boy, "Where's your soap?" The youth searched his overcoat pockets and said, "It must have fallen somewhere." "Do these two mistakes not prove your intentional carelessness?" Gortsby asked sarcastically. The young man left before Gortsby finished his question, humiliated. Gortsby thought how foolish and silly a fraud can be. As usual, London sank into its amazing nightlife, leaving dusk for tomorrow. Gortsby left. As he moved a few steps, he saw the young man's small, neatly wrapped package beside the bench. He felt guilty for not believing the boy. He searched for the boy in vain. Gortsby's hopelessness overcame him. 

While considering his next move, he saw the man at the carriage drive. When the young man saw him, his defensive stature made him uneasy, but he apologised for his earlier remark and gave him the needed help and soap he thought was the youth's friend. After thanking Gortsby, he left. Gortsby also left. He saw an old man searching under the bench while passing it. "What?" "Lost anything, sir? Response arrived. Yes, sir.

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