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"You'd hardly believe me," he said, "if I told you that that Miss Corner of yours has a quite extraordinary resemblance to a miniature I've got away there in America of a cousin of my maternal grandmother's. She seems a very pleasant young lady." But Mr. Britling supplied no further information about Miss Corner.
Direck to Matching's Easy, the task that Massachusetts society had sent him upon, the task of organising the mental unveiling of Mr. Britling. Mr. Direck saw Mr. Britling only in the daylight, and with an increasing distraction of the attention towards Miss Cecily Corner. We may see him rather more clearly in the darkness, without any distraction except his own.
She shifted her attack to the Labour people. They would rather see the country defeated than submit to a little discipline. "Because they have no faith in the house of lawyers or the house of landlords," said Mr. Britling. "Who can blame them?" She proceeded to tell everybody what she would do with strikers. She would give them "short shrift."
No shots had yet been fired in the East, and the mischief in Ireland that Germany had counted on was well ahead. Sir Edward Grey was said to be working hard for peace. "It's the cry of wolf," said Mr. Britling to Herr Heinrich. "But at last there did come a wolf," said Herr Heinrich. "I wish I had not sent my first moneys to that Conference upon Esperanto. I feel sure it will be put off."
The choice of one's leisure is to watch the A.S.C. or play football, twenty a side, or sit about indoors, or stand in the doorway, or walk down to the Estaminet and wait five or six deep for the billiard-table. Ultimately one sits. And so you get these unconscionable letters." "Unconscionable," said Mr. Britling. "Of course he will grow out of that sort of thing.
Direck was now familiar, a very extensive system of distresses arising out of the latest, the eighth of these digressional adventures.... Mr. Britling had got into it very much as he had got into the ditch on the morning before his smash. He hadn't thought the affair out and he hadn't looked carefully enough. And it kept on developing in just the ways he would rather that it didn't.
It is peace.... All the thoughts of him being crushed dreadfully or being mutilated or lying and screaming or things like that they've gone. He's out of his spoilt body. He's my unbroken Teddy again.... Out of sight somewhere.... Unbroken.... Sleeping." She resumed her excavation with the little stick, with the tears running down her face. Mr. Britling presently went on with the talk.
To come, in fact, and be himself in a highly concentrated form. In this way a number of interesting Europeans had been given very pleasant excursions to America, and the society had been able to form very definite opinions upon their teaching. And Mr. Britling was one of the representative thinkers upon which this society had decided to inform itself.
Britling had been indulging in these imaginative slaughterings and spending the tears and hate that had gathered in his heart, his reason had been sitting apart and above the storm, like the sun waiting above thunder, like a wise nurse watching and patient above the wild passions of a child.
It was entirely against his habits of mind to hide anything more particularly an entanglement with a difficult proposition but he perceived quite clearly that neither Cecily nor Mr. Britling were really to be trusted to listen calmly to what, under happier circumstances, might be a profoundly interesting moral complication. Yet it was not in his nature to conceal; it was in his nature to state.
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