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Updated: May 31, 2025
Britten writhed, appreciating the image. "There's to be a section of sports. YOU must do that." "I'm not going to do any fine writing," said Shoesmith. "What you've got to do is just to list all the chaps and put a note to their play: 'Naylor minor must pass more. Football isn't the place for extreme individualism. 'Ammersham shapes well as half-back. Things like that."
The next day I went to the office of the BLUE WEEKLY in order to get as much as possible of its affairs in working order before I left London with Isabel. I just missed Shoesmith in the lower office.
The night, I remember, was warmly foggy when after midnight we went to finish our talk at my house. We had recently changed the rules of the club to admit visitors, and so it happened that I had brought Britten, and Crupp introduced Arnold Shoesmith, my former schoolfellow at City Merchants, and now the wealthy successor of his father and elder brother.
"The modern community needs its serious men to be artistic and its artists to be taken seriously," I remember his saying. "The day has gone by for either dull responsibility or merely witty art." I remember very vividly how Shoesmith harped on an idea I had thrown out of using some sort of review or weekly to express and elaborate these conceptions of a new, severer, aristocratic culture.
And Shoesmith might be there in the house, Shoesmith who was to have been married in four days the thing might hit him full in front of any kind of people. Cruel eyes might watch him. Why the devil hadn't I written letters to warn them all? I could have posted them five minutes before the train started.
No doubt things are moving from looseness to discipline, and from irresponsible controls to organised controls and also and rather contrariwise everything is becoming as people say, democratised; but all the more need in that, for an ark in which the living element may be saved." "Hear, hear!" said Shoesmith, faint but pursuing.
For a time I seemed quite wonderfully able to do whatever I wanted to do. Shoesmith responded to my first advances.
"It means smashing such an infernal lot of things, Remington." I did not answer. "You're going away then?" "Yes." "Soon?" "Right away." "There's your wife." "I know." "Shoesmith whom you're pledged to in a manner. You've just picked him out and made him conspicuous. Every one will know. Oh! of course it's nothing to you. Honour " "I know." "Common decency." I nodded. "All this movement of ours.
I remember the inaugural meeting in Shoesmith major's study we had had great trouble in getting it together and how effectually Cossington bolted with the proposal. "I think we fellows ought to run a magazine," said Cossington. "The school used to have one. A school like this ought to have a magazine." "The last one died in '84," said Shoesmith from the hearthrug.
She rested her hand against the door of the carriage and bent down upon me, and put her cold, moist lips to mine. And then we broke down. We broke our faith with both Margaret and Shoesmith, flung career and duty out of our lives, and went away together. It is only now, almost a year after these events, that I can begin to see what happened to me.
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