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"I didn't blow it," Mr. Tovey was saying in an aggrieved voice. "I was singing, not blowing." "Well, all I know is that while you were on that high note something seemed to scatter the flames, and the drawer full of explosives caught fire," said Mr. Darnby Frere aggressively, flourishing his empty biscuit tin. "It doesn't matter," said Miss Ford calmly. "We are all going across the sea to-morrow."
Anybody who has done anything silly goes to America. Indeed, if I remember rightly, America is entirely populated with fugitives from somewhere else. So dretfully confusing for the Red Indians. They say the story of the Tower of Babel was only a prophecy about the Woolworth Building " "You couldn't get a passport," said Mr. Darnby Frere, who was the only person present really conscious of sanity.
The draught that intruded into the flat ruffled the neat hair of five persons, Miss Ford herself, Lady Arabel Higgins, Miss Ivy MacBee, Mr. Bernard Tovey, and Mr. Darnby Frere. Miss MacBee always seemed to be seated on tenterhooks, even in the most comfortable of chairs. Her Spartan spine never consented graciously to the curves of cushions.
This habit, combined with the fact that he never launched an independent remark, had given him the reputation of being one of the best talkers in Kensington. Mr. Darnby Frere was the editor of an advanced religious paper called I Wonder, but he never wondered really.
"Oh, Darnby, do be sensible," said Miss Ford. "Of course we know it is wrong to break the law, but in this case well, I myself should be the last to blame her." "No, not the last," said Sarah Brown. "What do you mean?" "Certainly not the last. Probably not even the penultimate one. You flatter yourself."
Darnby Frere said "My word" rather cautiously several times, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He rather thought everybody was pulling his leg, but could not be sure. Only Miss Ford sat silent.
Darnby Frere, who was a student of Henry James's works, and therefore constantly made elaborate guesses on matters that did not concern him, and then forgot them because unlike Mr. James's guesses they were always wrong, gave the newcomer credit for being perhaps a shopwalker, or perhaps a South-Eastern and Chatham ticket-collector, but surely a chapel-goer.
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