Manchurian Books

... Not too big to be a trouble--no. You like Wimblehurst, I
suppose?"
My uncle retorted with some inquiries about the great people of
Bladesover, and my mother answered in the character of a personal friend
of Lady Drew's. The talk hung for a time, and then my uncle embarked
upon a dissertation upon Wimblehurst.
"This place," he began, "isn't of course quite the place I ought to be
in."
My mother nodded as though she had expected that.
"It gives me no Scope," he went on. "It's dead-and-alive. Nothing
happens."
"He's always wanting something to happen," said my aunt Susan. "Some day
he'll get a shower of things and they'll be too much for him."
"Not they," said my uncle, buoyantly.
"Do you find business--slack?" asked my mother.
"Oh! one rubs along. But there's no Development--no growth. They just
come along here and buy pills when they want 'em--and a horseball or
such. They've got to be ill before there's a prescription. That sort
they are. You can't get 'em to launch out, you can't get 'em to take up
anything new.


Pages:
79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103