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Updated: September 18, 2025
He was good enough to say he liked the look of Denton, thought he had stood up "amazing plucky. On'y pluck ain't no good ain't no brasted good if you don't 'old your 'ands. "Whad I was going to say was this," he said. "Lemme show you 'ow to scrap. Jest lemme. You're ig'nant, you ain't no class; but you might be a very decent scrapper very decent. Shown. That's what I meant to say."
"Well, Peregrine," she answered, her gaze still bent upon the pool, "I be wondering where we shall eat and sleep to-night, for we're miles away from Brasted " "Heavens, child!" I exclaimed, seating myself beside the stream. "Have you no soul? Cannot you soar above such base material wants? Listen to the voice of this brook; has it no message for you?"
I got a red face.... By gosh! you are you are a brasted fool!" He turned away, and instantly Denton realised the truth of this remark. The swart man descended with dignity to a cross way, and Denton, after a momentary impulse to pursuit, remained on the platform. For a time the things that had happened filled his mind. In one day his graceful system of resignation had been shattered beyond hope.
Why you done know 'ow to begin. You'll get killed if you don't mind. 'Ouldin' your 'ands There!" He reinforced his statement by objurgation, watching the effect of each oath with a wary eye. "F'r instance. You're tall. Long arms. You get a longer reach than any one in the brasted vault. Gobblimey, but I thought I'd got a Tough on. 'Stead of which ... 'Scuse me.
Edith's Chantry at the side, lay below and behind them, and they came out on to the edge of a great scoop in the hill, like a theatre, and the blue woods and hills of Surrey showed opposite beyond Otford and Brasted. Here they stopped, a little back from the edge, and Mr.
"You 'aven't 'eard anything about Mithith Thkinner, 'ave you?" he asked in a pause. "That we 'aven't!" said Mr. Witherspoon. "We 'aven't thought of 'er. We ain't thought nothing of either of you." "Ain't you been 'ome to-day?" asked Fulcher over a tankard. "If one of those brasted birds 'ave pecked 'er," began Mr. Witherspoons and left the full horror to their unaided imaginations....
In short he tried his luck, to the dismay of his conscience but with prodigious benefit to his pocket. His return to Brasted is described with excellent irony. Mr. WILL IRWIN'S war-book naturally divides itself into two parts, since he was lucky enough to get near the Front both about Verdun during the great attack, and with the Alpini fighting on "the roof of Armageddon."
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