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Updated: June 21, 2025
"I don't care two flips of a contact for anything you can do, Postey." "Don't you, sir? But I'll make you care. I'll have you towed stern first to Disko and broke up. You can't recover insurance if you're broke for obstruction. Do you understand that?" Then the stranger bellows: "Look at my propellers! There's been a wulli-wa down below that has knocked us into umbrella-frames!
He gave Mary such a chart. 'And you'd better study it, Postey, he said. 'You'll be seeing a lot of 'em soon. So Mary studied the chart, but when Wynn next arrived to swell and exalt himself before his womenfolk, she failed badly in cross-examination, and he rated her as in the old days. 'You look more or less like a human being, he said in his new Service voice.
Young Wyndham Fowler repaid her in his holidays by calling her 'Gatepost, 'Postey, or 'Packthread, by thumping her between her narrow shoulders, or by chasing her bleating, round the garden, her large mouth open, her large nose high in air, at a stiff-necked shamble very like a camel's.
And when he decided to become a solicitor, and had entered an office in London; when his greeting had changed from 'Hullo, Postey, you old beast, to Mornin', Packthread, there came a war which, unlike all wars that Mary could remember, did not stay decently outside England and in the newspapers, but intruded on the lives of people whom she knew.
One morning it circled over their very chimneys, alighted on Vegg's Heath, almost outside the garden gate, and Wynn came in, blue with cold, shouting for food. He and she drew Miss Fowler's bath-chair, as they had often done, along the Heath foot-path to look at the bi-plane. Mary observed that 'it smelt very badly. 'Postey, I believe you think with your nose, said Wynn.
'You must have had a brain at some time in your past. What have you done with it? Where d'you keep it? A sheep would know more than you do, Postey. You're lamentable. You are less use than an empty tin can, you dowey old cassowary. 'I suppose that's how your superior officer talks to you? said Miss Fowler from her chair. 'But Postey doesn't mind, Wynn replied. 'Do you, Packthread? 'Why?
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