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Updated: June 25, 2025
Then he took out the manuscript of "England" and turned over the pages. He wondered what Nona would think of it. He would like to tell her about it. Twyning came in. Twyning rarely entered Sabre's room. Sabre did not enter Twyning's twice in a year. Their work ran on separate lines and there was something, unexpressed, the reverse of much sympathy between them. Twyning was an older man than Sabre.
Sabre's house was of grey stone and it presented over the doorway the date 1667. "Nearly two hundred and fifty years," Mabel had once said. "And I bet," Sabre had replied, "it's never been better kept or run than you run it now, Mabel." The tribute was well deserved. Mabel, who was in many ways a model woman, was preëminently a model housewife.
Any one would have taken a second squint at old Sabre's face as I saw it then taken a second squint and wondered what he'd been through and what on earth his mind could be on now. They certainly would. "I knew. I knew; but I tell you this, I could see he'd been through a tough lot more, and thought a considerable number of fathoms deeper, in the month since I'd seen him last.
I put things down in it." "Oh, oh!" was the reply, taking hold of both Sabre's ears, and chuckling. "Put things down, do you? What sort of things do you put down, eh, pretty Theodora? Lovers, eh? Literary men, eh?" Theo grew pink all over pink as to cheeks, pink as to slim white throat, even pink as to small ears.
Truly? War? We've declared war? Well, I say, thank God! Thank God! I was afraid. I was terribly afraid we'd stand out. But thank God, England is England still.... And will be, Sabre; and will be!" He released Sabre's hands and took out a handkerchief and wiped his eyes. "I prayed for this," he said. "I prayed for God to be in Downing Street last night."
But he will wear it. It's no good my saying anything to him." This was an opinion that old Mrs. Perch was constantly reiterating. Young Perch was equally given to declaring, "I can't do anything with my Mother, you know." And yet it was Sabre's observation that each life was entirely guided and administered by the other.
Sabre was trying to retain his thoughts. He felt them slipping away before Twyning's presence. He could hear Twyning breathing through his nose and felt incensed that Twyning should come and breathe through his nose by his chair when he wanted to write. But Twyning continued to stand by the chair and to breathe through his nose. He was reading over Sabre's shoulder.
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