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Updated: May 29, 2025
"Pennybet," explained Radley, "you're a purblind egotist and will come to a bad end." "Oh, I don't think so, sir," said Penny, crossing his legs that he might the more comfortably discuss his end with Radley. "I've always managed to do what I've wanted and to come out of it all right." "Oh, you have, have you?" sneered Chappy. "Always," answered Penny, unabashed.
"There's a type of man," interrupted Radley, "who'd start a prairie fire, if it were the only way to light his pipe." "Exactly. And I am he." "Good God!" repeated Chappy. "And, after peace is declared, I shall settle down to a comfortable life at the club." "It's a relief," smiled Radley, "that you won't lead a revolution and usurp the throne." "Too much trouble.
He had something else he had that powerful, intangible thing which among police officials and in the inner politics of city governments is variously known as a pull and a drag. Straightway he invoked it. Of a sudden Chappy Marr was aware that he had made a grievous mistake.
Chapman. Besides, when boys played cricket, it was well to have a doctor on the field, and he was a doctor and had never met a better. Would you have a cigar? All tobacco, in his opinion, led to the overthrow of body and soul believe him; it did but you would never see him without a cigar. Not he! Such was Chappy, the medicine man. He was right, about the cigar.
Propbridge is going through; his wife too. They'll go to court; they'll shove the case. And Cheesy Zaugbaum has come clean. Oh, I guess it's curtains for you all right, all right." "You don't exactly hate yourself, do you?" gibed Marr. "Sort of pleased with yourself?" "Not so much pleased with myself as disappointed in you, Chappy," countered the exultant Brock.
And there'd be something wrong, if a body full of young blood didn't have a head full of glittering illusions." "Rot!" proclaimed Chappy. "I like them to be Socialists and Futurists and everything. If they don't want to put the world to rights, who will?" "Damned rot!" "It's nothing of the sort," rejoined Radley, getting annoyed. "They ought to break out at this time.
And, if that last dogma of his be not Heaven's truth, then my outlook on life is all wrong, and this book's a failure! As Radley placed his muscular frame in the deck-chair, Chappy greeted him with these regrettable remarks: "Hallo, Radley, aren't you dead yet? How the devil are you? My word, how you've grown!" The match started, Doe and our captain opening the Kensingtowe innings.
"I wasn't moping " I began sullenly. "Now, sulky sulky!" interrupted Chappy. "I wasn't moping. I went and got a thousand lines from Mr. Fillet " "Yes, I know. The damned old stinker!" said Chappy, always coarse and delightful. I think I loved him for those words. I felt that my allies were swinging into line for the great war against Carpet Slippers. There was Doe, and now Chappy.
"Oh, don't go," I pleaded, before I was aware of saying it. I didn't want him to go, for he was an entertaining apothecary and a sympathetic person, before whom I could act my sullenness and aggrievement. "Don't go? Why shouldn't I?" demanded Chappy, who seemed, however, touched at my wanting him. "Now, my son, don't you run away with the idea that you're of the slightest importance.
Radley turned round and, having seen me, said something in an undertone to Chappy. I imagine he drew attention to my proximity, for Chappy laughed out: "O law! Glory be!" and continued in a lower voice. My sense of honour was not so nice that it prevented me from trying to catch the rest of their conversation.
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