Really, at this time of day, they are the limit."
"Aurora," said Mr. Lavender, "if you will permit me, who am old
enough--alas!--to be your father, to call you that, you must surely be
aware that phrases are the very munitions of war, and certainly not less
important than mere material explosives. Take the word 'Liberty,' for
instance; would you deprive us of it?"
The young lady fixed on him those large grey eyes which had in them the
roll of genius. "Dear Don Pickwixote," she said, "I would merely take it
from the mouths of those who don't know what it means; and how much do
you think would be left? Not enough to butter the parsnips of a
Borough Council, or fill one leader in a month of Sundays. Have you
not discovered, Don Pickwixote, that Liberty means the special form of
tyranny which one happens to serve under; and that our form of tyranny
is GAS."
"High heaven!" cried Mr. Lavender, "that I should hear such words from
so red lips!"
"I've not been a Pacifist, so far," continued the young lady, stifling
a yawn, "because I hate cruelty, I hate it enough to want to be cruel
to it. I want the Huns to lap their own sauce. I don't want to be
revengeful, but I just can't help it."
"My dear young lady," said Mr.
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