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Updated: June 2, 2025
They lived and worked in a hard little house in Chambers Street, Westminster, and made a centre for quite an astonishing amount of political and social activity. Willersley took me there one evening. The place was almost pretentiously matter-of-fact and unassuming.
"I feel we might do so many things," I said, "and everything that calls one, calls one away from something else." Willersley agreed without any modest disavowals. "We have got to think out," he said, "just what we are and what we are up to. We've got to do that now. And then it's one of those questions it is inadvisable to reopen subsequently." He beamed at me through his glasses.
I felt myself the most wonderful and unprecedented of adventurers. It was hard to believe that any one in the world before had done as much. My mistress and I met smiling, we carried things off admirably, and it seemed to me that Willersley was the dullest old dog in the world. I wanted to give him advice. I wanted to give him derisive pokes.
The Liberals have not been long in following up our Endowment of Motherhood lead. They'll have to give votes and lip service anyhow. Half the readers of the BLUE WEEKLY, they say, are Liberals.... "I remember talking about things of this sort with old Willersley," I said, "ever so many years ago.
When once one is off the road anything may happen, from a crumpled mud-guard to the car on the top of you. And there was his forty miles an hour spurt with the great and gifted Delphine Marquise for whom he was to have written a play and been a perfect Annunzio. Until Willersley appeared very like the motor-cyclist buzzing in the opposite direction. And then had ensued angers, humiliations....
The Americans fade out amidst their successes. Eugenics " "THAT wasn't Eugenics," said Willersley. "It was a woman," I said after a little interval, feeling oddly that I had failed altogether to answer him, and yet had a strong dumb case against him. I must go back a little way with my story.
It was near Matlock that Arkwright first set up his cotton-spinning machine, and when fortune and fame had made him Sir Richard Arkwright he built Willersley Castle for his home, on the banks of the Derwent. The valley of the little river Dove also presents some fine scenery, especially in the fantastic shapes of its rocks.
I said, "and how do they get a living? They seem to have plenty of money. He strikes me as being Willersley, what is a drysalter? I think he's a retired drysalter." Willersley theorised while I thought of the woman and that provocative quality of dash she had displayed. The next day at lunch she and I met like old friends.
And here is the remarkable thing about it; at the time and for some days I was over-weeningly proud; I have never been so proud before or since; I felt I had been promoted to virility; I was unable to conceal my exultation from Willersley. It was a mood of shining shameless ungracious self-approval.
I couldn't even think of myself as five and thirty. Once I remember Willersley going over a list of failures, and why they had failed but young men in the twenties do not know much about failures.
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