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Updated: June 20, 2025
I do not wonder now that Dunkerley and several other preachers in the New Connexion were drunkards, when I take into consideration the customs and habits of the people of the Connexion in those days.
Dunkerley was the senior assistant master, Lewisham's sole colleague. The last vestige of disapprobation had vanished from Bonover's manner; asking a favour was his autocratic way of proffering the olive branch. But it came to Lewisham as a cruel imposition. For a fateful moment he trembled on the brink of acquiescence.
Bonover's eyebrows went up at this obvious lie, and the glow of his suavity faded, "You see," he said, "Mrs. Bonover expects a friend this afternoon, and we rather want Mr. Dunkerley to make four at croquet...." "I'm sorry," said Mr. Lewisham, still resolute, and making a mental note that Bonover would be playing croquet. "You don't play croquet by any chance?" asked Bonover.
That's the theory. All very well for a man whose father can leave him five hundred a year. But how does it work for a shopman?... An assistant master like Dunkerley? Or ... Me?" "In these cases one must exercise restraint," said Parkson. "Have faith. A man that is worth having is worth waiting for." "Worth growing old for?" said Lewisham. "Chap ought to fight," said Dunkerley.
"I can assure you," he would write, "that you will find me a loyal and devoted assistant." Much in that strain. Dunkerley pointed out that Bonover's testimonial ignored the question of moral character and discipline in a marked manner, and Bonover refused to alter it. He was willing to do what he could to help Lewisham, in spite of the way he had been treated, but unfortunately his conscience....
"Like a shot. Why not?" "But how are you to live?" "That comes after. If ..." "I can't agree with you, Mr. Dunkerley," said Parkson. "I don't know if you have read Sesame and Lilies, but there you have, set forth far more fairly than any words of mine could do, an ideal of a woman's place ..." "All rot Sesame and Lilies," interrupted Dunkerley. "Read bits. Couldn't stand it.
J. King, W. Fail, and R. Ewart all of whom were old friends and observers of the 149th Infantry Brigade; from the 125th Infantry Brigade L.-C. J. Flynn; from the 126th Infantry Brigade Ptes. F. Dunkerley and F. Turner; from the 127th Infantry Brigade Corp. Walker and Pte. A. Morris.
He knew his own mind now. To-morrow he was resolved he would fling work to the dogs and meet her. The things Dunkerley had said had filled his mind with wonderful novel thoughts. If only he could see her now! His wish was granted.
A lad with a spotted face and a bulldog pipe between his teeth supplied a Biblical word. "That's shag," said Dunkerley, "I was going to say 'a harem of one'" The youngster was puzzled for a moment. "I smoke Perique," he said. "It will make you just as sick," said Dunkerley. "Refinement's so beastly vulgar," was the belated answer of the smoker of Perique.
Never can stand Ruskin. Too many prepositions. Tremendous English, no doubt, but not my style. Sort of thing a wholesale grocer's daughter might read to get refined. We can't afford to get refined." "But would you really marry a girl ...?" began Lewisham, with an unprecedented admiration for Dunkerley in his eyes. "Why not?" "On ?" Lewisham hesitated. "Forty pounds a year res. Whack! Yes."
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