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

"Tono Bungay"

Remarkable I thought it. And so I've been up to see
what they were doing."
"They would have been more than remarkable thirty years ago," I said.
"Yes, indeed. Things change. We think nothing of it now at
all--comparatively. And that big house--"
He raised his eyebrows. "Really stupendous! Stupendous.
"All the hillside--the old turf--cut to ribbons!"
His eye searched my face. "We've grown so accustomed to look up to Lady
Grove," he said, and smiled in search of sympathy. "It shifts our centre
of gravity."
"Things will readjust themselves," I lied.
He snatched at the phrase. "Of course," he said.
"They'll readjust themselves--settle down again. Must. In the old way.
It's bound to come right again--a comforting thought. Yes. After all,
Lady Grove itself had to be built once upon a time--was--to begin
with--artificial."
His eye returned to my aeroplane. He sought to dismiss his graver
preoccupations. "I should think twice," he remarked, "before I trusted
myself to that concern.... But I suppose one grows accustomed to the
motion.


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