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Wells, H. G. (Herbert George), 1866-1946

"Tono Bungay"

He might
have preferred Americans for some reasons; they are not so obviously
taken from one part of the social system and dumped down in another, and
they are more teachable; but in this world we cannot always be choosers.
So he was very bright and pleasant with us, showed us the church,
gossiped informingly about our neighbours on the countryside--Tux, the
banker; Lord Boom, the magazine and newspaper proprietor; Lord Carnaby,
that great sportsman, and old Lady Osprey. And finally he took us by
way of a village lane--three children bobbed convulsively with eyes
of terror for my uncle--through a meticulous garden to a big, slovenly
Vicarage with faded Victorian furniture and a faded Victorian wife, who
gave us tea and introduced us to a confusing family dispersed among a
lot of disintegrating basket chairs upon the edge of a well-used tennis
lawn.
These people interested me. They were a common type, no doubt, but they
were new to me. There were two lank sons who had been playing singles
at tennis, red-eared youths growing black moustaches, and dressed in
conscientiously untidy tweeds and unbuttoned and ungirt Norfolk jackets.


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