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Britten had got hold of IN MEMORIAM, and I had disinterred Pope's ESSAY ON MAN and RABBI BEN EZRA, and these things had set our theological and cosmic solicitudes talking. I was somewhere between sixteen and eighteen, I know, when he and I walked along the Thames Embankment confessing shamefully to one another that we had never read Lucretius. We thought every one who mattered had read Lucretius.
To think this tottering old-woman ridden Empire should dare to waste a man on such a score! You say I ought to be penitent " Britten shook his head and smiled very faintly. "I'm boiling with indignation," I said. "I lay in bed last night and went through it all. What in God's name was to be expected of us but what has happened?
I thought. "Yes." "For her?" "There isn't," I said. "If there was?" I made no answer. "It's blind Want. And there's nothing ever been put into you to stand against it. What are you going to do with the rest of your lives?" "No end of things." "Nothing." "I don't believe you are right," I said. "I believe we can save something " Britten shook his head.
And Flack crowded us out of number two with a bright little paper on the "Humours of Cricket," and the Head himself was profusely thoughtful all over the editorial under the heading of "The School Chapel; and How it Seems to an Old Boy." Britten and I found it difficult to express to each other with any grace or precision what we felt about that magazine.
"Let's go, then!" proposed Ned, motioning to the attendant to cast off and handing him a coin at the same time. Listening to a number of quaint seafaring expressions from old Captain Britten, who was starting his first voyage into the upper air, Tom sent the big craft roaring above the smooth water toward Shopton. "How do you like flying, Captain Britten?" Ned asked. "Ever been up?"
"My husband!" you should have heard her laugh; it was just like one of the animals at the Zoo "my husband! That wasn't my husband! That was the Baron Albert the man I dread more than any one in the world. How could you make such a mistake, Britten?" I shook my head. "Madame," says I, "I'm very sorry, but I took the first one that came along and answered to the name.
Afterwards we were torn apart; Britten went to Oxford, and our circumstances never afterwards threw us continuously together until the days of the BLUE WEEKLY. As boys, we walked together, read and discussed the same books, pursued the same enquiries.
Britten, its honored and devoted parent. The activities of the Anglican Church inspired this great Catholic layman to counteract the influence of its propaganda. Tract for tract, pamphlet for pamphlet, lecture for lecture, advertisement for advertisement was the plan of campaign of our new militant leader.
I want you to put the rest of the meteorite on a fast freight train and travel north with it." The sun was setting when the dock at Key West was reached. Tom waited no longer than was necessary to take on a supply of gasoline for the "Winged Arrow." He paid Captain Britten a generous fee and added a bonus for the divers who had helped him.
Such a "don't-touch-me-or-I-shall-vanish" manner you don't come across often even in Park Lane, and I soon saw that whatever else happened, Joseph, the valet, as they called him, and Lal Britten, the "shuffer," were never going to the North Pole together. "If it's doing nothing," said I at last, "Mr. Colmacher won't have cause to complain of his driver. Am I to call again, or will he send for me?"
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