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Updated: May 15, 2025
Hapgood went on: "I'm telling you, old man, that after the coroner had done with him, and after this Humpo, with his viprous forefinger, and his retriever tongue, and his perspiration streaming down his face, and Twyning tugging him down by the coat and putting him on the trail afresh after the coroner, and after this Humpo like that, had been on to him for a bit, Sabre absolutely couldn't speak.
The few pages of "England" already written lay in front of Sabre's pad, the first page uppermost. Twyning read and interjected a snort into his nasal rhythm. "Well, that book's not written for me, anyway," he remarked. Sabre agreed shortly. "It isn't. But why not?" Twyning read aloud the first words. "'This England you live in is yours. Well, I take my oath it isn't mine.
And the end was quicker than nothing. Twyning pulls Humpo's coat and points at Sabre's hat, soft hat, on the ledge before him. Humpo nods, delighted. "'And did she carry out her intention, sir? Did she clean your straw hat for you? "Nods. "'You don't appear to be wearing it? "Shakes. "'Pray, where, then, is this straw hat to clean which you obtained the oxalic acid? Is it at your house?
Twyning here is getting on for forty and of course he's given his son to the war; moreover, there's the business to be thought of. I'm afraid I'm not quite able to do all I used to do. You of course, you're married too, and there we are! It does, as you say, seem a great pity." The watch chain, having been generously exercised, was put to the duty of heavy tugs at its reluctant partner. Mr.
They've cleared him out of the office, or as good as done so. He says the man Twyning worked that. The man Twyning that Judas Iscariot chap, you remember is very thick with old Bright, the girl's father.
Twyning, do you hear that?" Twyning spun around from the bookcase and came forward. "Eh? Sorry, I'm afraid I wasn't listening." "Our excellent Sabre has offered himself for enlistment and been rejected." Twyning said, "Have you, by Jove! Jolly good. What bad luck being turned down. What was it?" Sabre moved across to his room. "Heart." "Was it, really?
Now Twyning had conceived the immense, patriotic, and profitable idea of making aeroplane parts, and it was made sufficiently clear to Sabre that, so long away and immediately to be off again, there could be no interest for him in the enterprise. "You won't want to go into all we are doing, my dear fellow," said Mr. Fortune. "Your hard-earned leave, eh?
Earnshaw, Colonel Rattray, all the remnant of his former friends, were gone to the front: Sabre submitted himself through the ordinary channels and this time received what Twyning had called his "paper." He did not show it to Twyning, nor mention either to him or to Mr. Fortune that he had tried again. "Again! most creditable of you, my dear Sabre." "Again, have you, though?
We mustn't expect you to give it up to business, eh, Twyning?" And Twyning responded, "No, no, old man. Not likely, old man. Well, it's jolly to see you in the office again"; and he looked at his watch and said a word to Mr. Fortune about "Meeting that man" with an air which quite clearly informed Sabre that it would be jollier still to see him put on his cap and walk out of the office again.
There was Twyning's neck, that brown strip between his collar and his head, that in a minute he would catch him by.... No, seated thus he would catch his hair and wrench him back and cram his meal upon him. Knock, knock, knock. Curse the thing! He said heavily, "Twyning. Twyning, I've come to speak to you about your son." Twyning slightly twisted his face in his hands so as to glance up at Sabre.
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