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300 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1928
‘I don’t believe,’ said Mr Prendergast, ‘that people would ever fall in love or want to be married if they hadn’t been told about it. It’s like abroad: no one would want to go there if they hadn’t been told it existed. Don’t you agree?’
"I shall say, 'Are you ready? One, two, three!' and then fire," said Mr Prendergast. "Are you ready? One" - there was a terrific report. "Oh dear! I'm sorry" - but the race had begun. Clearly Tangent was not going to win; he was sitting on the grass crying because he had been wounded in the foot by Mr Prendergast's bullet. Philbrick carried him, wailing dismally into the refreshment tent, where Dingy helped him off with his shoe. His heel was slightly grazed. Dingy gave him a large slice of cake, and he hobbled out surrounded by a sympathetic crowd.
"That won't hurt him," said Lady Circumference, "but I think someone ought to remove the pistol from that old man before he does something serious."
"I knew it was going to happen," said Lord Circumference.
"A most unfortunate beginning," said the Doctor.
"Am I going to die?" said Tangent, his mouth full of cake.
[...]
Mr Prendergast ate a grapefruit with some difficulty. "What a big orange!" he said when he had finished it. "They do things on a large scale here."
[...]
"Public or secondary education?"
"Public," said Paul. His school had been rather sensitive on the subject.
"What was your standard when you left school?"
"Well, I don't quite know. I don't think we had standards."
The Schoolmaster marked him down as 'Memory Defective' on a form, and went out.
[...]
Sir Wilfred, however, had his own ideas. "You must understand," he said to Paul, "that it is my aim to establish personal contact with each of the men under my care. I want you to take pride in your prison and in your work here. So far as possible, I like the prisoners to carry on with their avocations in civilised life. What was this man's profession, officer?"
"White Slave traffic, sir."
"Ah, yes. Well, I'm afraid you won't have much opportunity for that here. What else have you done?"
"Is it quite easy to get another job after - after you've been in the soup?" asked Paul.
"Not at first, it isn't, but there are ways. Besides, you see, I'm a public school man. That means everything. There's a blessed equity in the English social system," said Grimes, "that ensures the public school man against starvation. One goes through four or five years of perfect hell at an age when life is bound to be hell anyway, and after that the social system never lets one down.
"Not that I stood four or five years of it, mind; I left soon after my sixteen birthday. But my housemaster was a public school man. He knew the system. 'Grimes,' he said, 'I can't keep you in the House after what happened. I have the other boys to consider. But I don't want to be too hard on you. I want you to start again.' So he wrote me a letter of recommendation to any future employer, a corking good letter, too. I've got it still. It's been very useful at one time or another. That's the public school system all over. They may kick you out, but they never let you down." [...] "'God bless my soul,' he said, 'if it isn't Grimes of Podger's! What's all this nonsense about a court martial?' So I told him. 'H'm,' he said, 'pretty bad. Still it's out of the question to shoot an old Harrovian. I'll see what I can do about it.' And the next day I was sent to Ireland on a pretty cushy job connected with the postal service. That saw me out as far as the war was concerned. You can't get into the soup in Ireland, do what you like. I don't know if all this bores you?"
"Not at all," said Paul. "I think it's most encouraging."