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Updated: May 18, 2025
John was standing on the top of the coach, very disconsolate, when he saw Desmond beckoning to him from below. The expression on Caesar's face puzzled him. "How can you pal up with those Etonians?" whispered Caesar, after John had descended. "Every Eton face I see now I want to hit." Then he added, with a smile and a chuckle, "I say, there's going to be a ruction in front of the Pavvy. Come on."
The last man runs towards the pitch through a perfect hurricane of howls. Warde rises. "I can't stand it," he says, and his voice shakes oddly. "You fellows will find me behind the Pavvy after the match." "I'd go with you," says the Rev. Septimus, in a choked tone, "but if I tried to walk I should tumble down." Charles Desmond says nothing.
But the gentleman with the lumpy forehead having for the time delivered himself of all that he found behind his lumps, spake for the time no more. 'I Was Inquiring, said Mr Podsnap, resuming the thread of his discourse, 'Whether You Have Observed in our Streets as We should say, Upon our Pavvy as You would say, any Tokens
"Forty shillin's or a month for hackin' the chucker-out of the Pavvy on the shins. Bates always has a spree when he goes to town. Wish he was back, though. I'm about sick o' King's 'whips an' scorpions' an' lectures on public-school spirit yah! and scholarship!" "'Crass an' materialized brutality of the middle-classes readin' solely for marks.
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