"It deals with a region in which
things can be handled and tested. My opponent will at least
admit that death is a fact of experience."
"Not of mine," said Moon mournfully, shaking his head.
"I've never experienced such a thing in all my life."
"Well, really," said Dr. Pym, and sat down sharply amid a crackle of papers.
"So we see," resumed Moon, in the same melancholy voice, "that a
man like Dr. Warner is, in the mysterious workings of evolution,
doomed to such attacks. My client's onslaught, even if it occurred,
was not unique. I have in my hand letters from more than one acquaintance
of Dr. Warner whom that remarkable man has affected in the same way.
Following the example of my learned friends I will read only two of them.
The first is from an honest and laborious matron living off the Harrow Road.
"Mr. Moon, Sir,--Yes, I did throw a sorsepan at him. Wot then?
It was all I had to throw, all the soft things being porned,
and if your Docter Warner doesn't like having sorsepans thrown at him,
don't let him wear his hat in a respectable woman's parler, and tell
him to leave orf smiling or tell us the joke.--Yours respectfully,
Hannah Miles.
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