"He'll just porpoise about."
"I'll do something," said my uncle, "you bet! Zzzz!" and rapped with a
shilling on the marble table.
"When you do you'll have to buy me a new pair of gloves," she said,
"anyhow. That finger's past mending. Look! you Cabbage--you." And she
held the split under his nose, and pulled a face of comical fierceness.
My uncle smiled at these sallies at the time, but afterwards, when I
went back with him to the Pharmacy--the low-class business grew brisker
in the evening and they kept open late--he reverted to it in a low
expository tone. "Your aunt's a bit impatient, George. She gets at me.
It's only natural.... A woman doesn't understand how long it takes
to build up a position. No.... In certain directions now--I
am--quietly--building up a position. Now here.... I get this room. I
have my three assistants. Zzzz. It's a position that, judged by the
criterion of imeedjit income, isn't perhaps so good as I deserve,
but strategically--yes. It's what I want. I make my plans. I rally my
attack."
"What plans," I said, "are you making?"
"Well, George, there's one thing you can rely upon, I'm doing nothing in
a hurry.
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