‘Exactly what I told myself, Hofmiller, exactly what I thought! I just wanted to get away, and then I thought everything would be wiped out—tabula rasa! Better, I thought, be a boot-black or a dish-washer in America, like the big millionaires whose life-stories you read of in the newspapers. But, my dear Hofmiller, even to get to America you need a hell of a lot of money, and you’ve no idea what it means for the likes of us to have to kow-tow. The moment an old Uhlan no longer feels the collar with, its stars round his neck, he can no longer stand squarely on his feet, still less talk as he
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