Brought down by drink! It's a wonderful place,
George--a whirlpool, a maelstrom! whirls you up and whirls you down."
I have a very confused memory of that afternoon's inspection of
London. My uncle took us to and fro showing us over his London, talking
erratically, following a route of his own. Sometimes we were walking,
sometimes we were on the tops of great staggering horse omnibuses in
a heaving jumble of traffic, and at one point we had tea in an Aerated
Bread Shop. But I remember very distinctly how we passed down Park Lane
under an overcast sky, and how my uncle pointed out the house of this
child of good fortune and that with succulent appreciation.
I remember, too, that as he talked I would find my aunt watching my face
as if to check the soundness of his talk by my expression.
"Been in love yet, George?" she asked suddenly, over a bun in the
tea-shop.
"Too busy, aunt," I told her.
She bit her bun extensively, and gesticulated with the remnant to
indicate that she had more to say.
"How are YOU going to make your fortune?" she said so soon as she could
speak again.
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