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Updated: June 5, 2025
Ascher's blood was diluted with, but there must have been several ingredients, for she went on talking for quite a long time. When she stopped I made a protest on behalf of my country. "We're not so backward as all that," I said. "We have a Board of National Education and quite a large number of technical schools. In the convents they teach girls to play the piano." Mrs.
A miscalculation not in Ireland but elsewhere." I did not like to ask whether Mrs. Ascher's enthusiasm for the cause of Ireland had led her to finance the Galway gun-running. Nor did I care to question Ascher about his suggestion that Von Richter had something to do with buying and shipping that cargo or the other which was landed at Larne. Ascher seemed disinclined to discuss the matter further.
Even now, though I have fought in their army without incurring the reproach of cowardice, I cannot get out of the habit of looking at Englishmen from a distance. This convinces me that I am not one of them. I am thus Gorman is quite right about this a man of no country. But I understand Ascher as well as Gorman does; though I take a different view of Ascher's ultimate decision.
The fact that Ascher's correspondents brought me into touch with every kind of man, goes to show that banking has permeated, leavened life, that human society is saturated with finance. In a very few months, before the end of the summer which followed my home-coming, I was to see the whole machine stop working suddenly.
Gorman restored us to cheerfulness by opening a parcel and handing round two enormous boxes of chocolates. One box was settled on the seat between Miss Gibson and Tim. They ate with healthy appetites and obvious delight. When we reached Southampton that box was nearly empty and neither of them seemed any the worse. The other box lay on Mrs. Ascher's knee.
The man who creates, who brings into being, has only one desire, that his child, whatever it may be, shall live. If it is stifled, killed, a sword goes through his heart." It seemed to me even then with Mrs. Ascher's eyes on me, that it was rather absurd to talk about a cash register living. I do not think that men have ever personified this machine.
Yet it always was their home. I felt that, even when their contempt expressed itself in the bitterest words. Whatever their opinions were or their affectations, however widely their various activities were separated, these men were all consciously dependent on the smooth working of the system of world-wide credit. They were Ascher's clients, or if not Ascher's, the clients of others like Ascher.
Von Richter laid his hand on the door of the box. "Shall I see you to-morrow?" said Ascher. "Unfortunately," said Von Richter, "I leave London early to-morrow morning. Back to Berlin and the drill yard." He kissed Mrs. Ascher's hand again. "We poor soldiers have to work hard." "Perhaps," I said, "you can join us at the Carlton after the play. Mr. and Mrs.
I have worshipped in cathedrals, sweated cold in operating theatres, trembled before judges, but there is something about large surfaces of polished mahogany and very soft, dimly coloured turkey carpets which quells my feeble spirit still more completely. There was a heavy deadening silence in Ascher's private office, and our voices, when they broke it, sounded like the cheeping of ghosts.
In business matters I'm a mere babe." "Mr. Gorman will listen to you," she said. "He will understand if you explain to him. He is a writer, an artist. He must understand." I shook my head. Gorman can write. I admit that. His writing is a great deal better than Mrs. Ascher's modelling, though she did do that head of Tim.
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