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Updated: June 18, 2025
That theoretical Working Man of ours! if we felt the clash at all we explained it, I suppose, by assuming that he came from another part of the country; Esmeer, I remember, who lived somewhere in the Fens, was very eloquent about the Cornish fishermen, and Hatherleigh, who was a Hampshire man, assured us we ought to know the Scottish miner.
"My God!" said Hatherleigh to convey the quality of her; just simply and with projectile violence: "My God!" Benton had heard of a woman who lived with a man refusing to be married to him we thought that splendid beyond measure, I cannot now imagine why. She was "like a tender goddess," Benton said.
I recall prolonged discussion of polygamy on the way to Royston, muddy November tramps to Madingley, when amidst much profanity from Hatherleigh at the serious treatment of so obsolete a matter, we weighed the reasons, if any, for the institution of marriage.
"The Pinky Dinky extracts a good deal of amusement from life," said some one. "Damned prig!" said Hatherleigh. "The Pinky Dinky arises in the Union and treats the question with a light gay touch. He makes the weird ones mad. But sometimes he cannot go on because of the amusement he extracts." "I want to shy books at the giggling swine," said Hatherleigh.
Hatherleigh was a good Englishman of the premature type with a red face, a lot of hair, a deep voice and an explosive plunging manner, and it was he who said one evening Heaven knows how we got to it "Look here, you know, it's all Rot, this Shutting Up about Women. We OUGHT to talk about them. What are we going to do about them? It's got to come. We're all festering inside about it.
I can still recall even the physical feeling of those first tentative talks. I remember them mostly as occurring in the rooms of Ted Hatherleigh, who kept at the corner by the Trinity great gate, but we also used to talk a good deal at a man's in King's, a man named, if I remember rightly, Redmayne.
But his case was too preposterous, and Esmeer, with his shrill penetrating voice and his way of pointing with all four long fingers flat together, carried the point against him. He quoted Cato and Roman law and the monasteries of Thibet. "Well, anyway," said Hatherleigh, escaping from our hands like an intellectual frog, "Semitic or not, I've got no use for decency."
I must know about this Darwin if I die for it, I said. And I could no' get the book." Hatherleigh made an enthusiastic noise and drank beer at him with round eyes over the mug. "Well, anyhow I wasted no time on Greek and Latin," said Chris Robinson. "And one learns to go straight at a thing without splitting straws. One gets hold of the Elementals."
One day during my Cambridge days it must have been in my first year before I knew Hatherleigh I saw in a print-shop window near the Strand an engraving of a girl that reminded me sharply of Penge and its dusky encounter. It was just a half length of a bare-shouldered, bare-breasted Oriental with arms akimbo, smiling faintly. I looked at it, went my way, then turned back and bought it.
WE'VE got to be able to think of anything. And 'such things aren't for the Likes of Us! That's another servant's saying. Well, everything IS for the Likes of Us. If we see fit, that is." A small fresh-coloured man in grey objected. "Well," exploded Hatherleigh, "if that isn't so what the deuce are we up here for? Instead of working in mines? If some things aren't to be thought about ever!
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