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Updated: May 18, 2025


I wanted to get to the side to look after Seraphina, but I simply couldn't remember how to stand. I sat on the hatch, looking at the seamen. They were clearing the ropes, collecting the lamps, picking up knives, handspikes, crowbars, swabbing the decks with squashy flaps.

The ground gave under his feet, and at every step a squashy sound was heard, as if the handle were being drawn out of a churn. Then came a black morass, at the edge of which stood white-haired cotton-grass, and on which swam a layer of dissolved iron, shining like verdigris. He carefully avoided it, though he got into the morass after all, but finally struggled back to dry land.

You belong to a Service that ought to be able to command the Channel Fleet, or set a leg at twenty minutes' notice, and yet you hesitate over asking to escape from a squashy green district where you admit you are not master. Drop the Bengal Government altogether. Even Darjiling is a little out-of-the-way hole. I was there once, and the rents were extortionate. Assert yourself.

When I saw that Latin man I knew that Mellinger, private secretary, had all the dances on his card taken. That was a big, squashy man, the colour of a rubber overshoe, and he had an eye like a head waiter's. "Mellinger explained, fluent, in the Castilian idioms, that his soul was disconcerted with joy at introducing to his respected friends America's greatest invention, the wonder of the age.

"Put on your coat and that nice squashy hat of yours, and trot back to your hotel like a good Pobs." Stair laughed, looking down at her with kind eyes. "Very well, little autocrat." He put his hand under her chin and tilted her face up. "I've not congratulated you yet, my dear. It's a big thing you've done captured London in a day. But it's a bigger thing you'll have to do."

"I can feel it now, all squashy in my pocket, inextricably mingled with a catapult, a couple of marbles, a box of matches, and some string. I was quite the human general store in those days. Which reminds me that we have been some time settling down to an exchange of our childhood reminiscences, haven't we?" "I've been trying to realise that you are Wally Mason. You have altered so."

Uncle Samuel looked queer enough with a squashy black hat, a black cloak flung over his shoulders, and a large cherry-wood pipe in his mouth. Jeremy looked up at him defiantly. "Well," said Uncle Samuel sarcastically. "It's nothing to you, I suppose, that the town-crier is at this moment ringing his bell for you up and down the Market Place?" "Does father know?" Jeremy asked quickly.

Up in Assouan, one of the larger towns, which we shall visit, they say, for instance, "Rain? Let me see oh yes, we did have a shower, two years ago it was, on such and such a day at four in the afternoon. Pretty smart shower too; the roofs of the mud houses got squashy and slipped down on the inhabitants. Quite funny, wasn't it?"

"What niggly writing!" objected Nellie Bliecker, wrinkling her snub nose in the disgust that masks the gnawing tooth of envy. "And the envelope is all over sticky brown," said another carping critic. "That's because he put the letter inside the chocolate-box," explained Greta, "instead of outside. And the best chocolates the expensive ones always go squashy.

And to this fault, which he shares with other modern races, he adds the other heinous sin of sentimentalism, the refusal to face the facts. This sentimentalizing of reality is far more dangerous than the romantic sentimentalizing of the "squashy" variety.

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