Chapter 15
第十五章
菲利普十三岁那年正式进了坎特伯雷皇家公学。该校颇以其源远流长而自豪。它最初是所修道院学堂，早在诺曼人征服英国之前就创办了，当时只设有几门很简单的课程，由奥古斯汀教团的修士讲授。这所学校也像其他这类学校一样，在修道院遭到破坏之后，就由亨利八世国王陛下的官员加以整顿重建，该校的校名即源出于此。打那时起，学校采取了比较实际的办学方针，面向当地上流人士以及肯特郡各行各业人士的子弟，向他们提供足以应付实际需要的教育。有一两个学生走出校门之后，成了誉满字内的文人，他们最初以诗人的身分驰骋文坛，论其才华之横溢，仅次于莎士比亚，最后专事散文写作，影响深远，他们的人生观甚至影响到菲利普这一代人。皇家公学还出了个把出类拔萃的律师，不过当今社会上名律师多如牛毛，这也就不足为奇了。此外，还出过个把战功赫赫的军人。然而，皇家公学在脱离修士会以后的三百年内，主要还是专为教会培养大量人材：教士、主教、主任牧师、牧师会成员，特别是乡村牧师。有些在校学生的父亲、祖父和曾祖父都在这儿念过书，现在全都当上了坎特伯雷主教管区内的教区长，所以这些学生刚跨进校门时就已经决心继承祖业，将来当个牧师。尽管如此，也还是有迹象表明，甚至在这些人身上也会发生某些变化；有些孩子把在家里听到的话搬到学校来，说什么如今的教会已不复是往日的教会。问题倒不在于教会的薪俸菲薄，而是现在干教会这一行的人良莠不齐，鱼龙混杂。据个别孩子所知，有几位副牧师的父亲就是做买卖的。他们宁可跑到殖民地去（那时候，凡是在英国找不到出路的人，依然把最后的希望寄托在殖民地上），也不愿在某个出身低贱的小子手下当副牧师。在皇家公学也像在布莱克斯泰勃的牧师公馆一样，说到买卖人，就是指那些投错了娘胎、没有祖传因产（这里，有田产的乡绅和一般的土地占有者之间存在着细微的差别），或是并非从事四大专门职业的人（对于有身分的人来说，要谋事也总是在这四门职业中加以选择的）。皇家公学的走读生里面，大约有一百五十人的家长是当地的上流人士或是驻扎在兵站里的军官，至于老子是做买卖的那些孩子，则自觉地位卑微而抬不起头来。
学校里的那些老夫子，容不得半点教育方面的新思想，有时在《泰晤士报》或《卫报》上也看到一些，便大不以为然。他们一心只盼皇家公学能保持其固有的老传统。那些僵死的语言，教师们教起来道地得无以复加，孩子们日后往往一想到荷马或维吉尔，就不免泛起一股厌恶之感。尽管也有个把胆大妄为的角色在教员公用室进餐时暗示说，数学已显得日益重要了，但大多数人总觉着这门学科岂能与高雅的古典文学相提并论。学校里既不传授德语，又不设置化学课。而法语课呢，那是由级任老师上的，他们维持课堂秩序比外国教员更加有效；再说，他们的语法知识决不比任何法国人逊色。至于他们在布洛涅的餐馆里，要不是侍者懂得点英文，恐怕连杯咖啡也喝不成，这一点似乎是无关宏旨的。教地理课，主要是让学生们画地图。孩子们倒也最爱上这门课，特别是在讲到某个多山国家的时候，因为画画安第斯山脉或是画画亚平宁山脉，可以消磨掉很多时间。教师都是些毕业于牛津或剑桥的、没结过婚的教士。假如他们之中偶尔有哪个心血来潮想结婚成家的话，那就得听任牧师会处置，接受某个薪俸较微的职务才行。实际上多年来，还未有哪位教师愿意离开坎特伯雷这样一个高雅的生活圈子（这个生活圈子除了虔诚的宗教气氛之外，还由于当地的骑兵站而带上几分尚武色彩），去过乡村教区的那种单调生活；而学校的教师现在都早已过了四十岁。
而皇家公学的校长，却非得结婚不可；他主持学校事务，直到年迈体衰、无力视事为止。校长退休时，不仅酬以一份一般教师连想都不敢想的优厚俸禄，而且还授予牧师会荣誉会员的称号。
然而就在菲利普升入皇家公学的前一年，发生了一项重大变化。早一阵子大家就注意到，当了二十五年校长的弗莱明博士已经耳聋眼花，显然无力再继续为上帝效劳增光了。后来，正好城郊有个年俸六百镑的肥缺空了出来，牧师会便建议他接受这份美差，实际上也是在暗示他该告老退休了。再说，靠着这样一份年俸，他也尽可以舒舒服服休养生息，尽其天年。有两三位一直觊觎这份肥缺的副牧师，免不了要在老婆面前抱怨叫屈：这样一个需要由身强力壮的年轻人来主持的教区，却交给了一个对教区工作一窍不通、只知营私自肥的老朽，简直岂有此理！不过尚未受领牧师之职的教士们的牢骚怨言，是传不到大教堂牧师会衮衮诸公的耳朵里的。至于那些教区居民，他们在这种事情上没什么要说的，所以也不会有人去征询他们的意见。而美以美会教徒和浸礼会教徒在乡村里又都有自己的小教堂。
弗莱明博士的事儿就这样处置停当了，现在有必要物色一个继任人。如果从本校教师中挑选，那是违背学校传统的。全体教员一致希望推举预备学校校长沃森先生出山：很难把他算作皇家公学的教师，再说，大家认识他已有二十年，不用担心他会成为一个讨人嫌的角色。但是，牧师会的决定却让他们大吃一惊。牧师会选中了一个叫珀金斯的无名之辈。起初，谁也不知道珀金斯是谁，珀金斯这个名字也没给谁留下什么好印象。然而惊愕之余，他们猛然省悟过来：这个珀金斯原来就是布店老板珀金斯的儿子！弗莱明博士直到午餐前才把这消息正式通知全体教师，从他的举止神态来看，他本人也不胜惶遽。那些留在学校里用餐的教师，几乎是一声不响地只顾埋头吃饭，压根儿不提这件事，一直等到工友离开了屋子，才渐渐议论开来。那些在场的人究竟何名柯姓，不说也无妨大局，好在几代学生都知道他们的雅号叫"常叹气"、"柏油"、"瞌睡虫"、"水枪"和"小团团"。
他们全都认识汤姆·珀金斯。首先，他这个人算不上有身分的绅士。他过去的情况大家记忆犹新。他是个身材瘦小，肤色黝黑的小男孩，一头乱草堆似的黑发，一双圆滚滚的大眼睛，看上去活像个吉卜赛人。那会儿念书时，他是名走读生，享受学校提供的最高标准的奖学金，所以他在求学期间，连一个子儿也不曾破费。当然罗，他也确实才华横溢。一年一度的授奖典礼上，他手里总是捧满了奖品。汤姆·珀金斯成了学校的活金字招牌。这会儿，教师们不无心酸地回想起当年他们怎么个提心吊担，生怕他会甩开他们，去领取某所规模较大的公学的助学金。弗莱明博士甚至亲自跑去拜见他那位开布店的父亲--教师们都还记得设在圣凯瑟琳大街上的那家"珀金斯-库珀布店--而且表示希望汤姆在进牛津之前能一直留在他们那儿。皇家公学是"珀金斯-库珀"布店的最大主顾，珀金斯先生当然很乐意满足对方要求，一口作出了保证。汤姆·珀金斯继续青云直上。他是弗莱明博士记忆之中古典文学学得最好的尖子学生。离校时，他带走了学校向他提供的最高额奖学金。他在马格达兰学院又得到一份奖学金，随之开始了大学里的光辉历程。校刊上记载了他年复一年获得的各种荣誉。当他两门功课都获得第一名时，弗莱明博士亲自写了几句颂词，登在校刊的扉页上。学校教师在庆贺他学业上的出色成就之时，心情分外满意，因为"珀金斯-库珀"布店这时已交上了厄运。库珀嗜酒如命，狂饮无度；而就在汤姆·珀金斯即将取得学位的当口上，这两位布商递交了破产申请书。
汤姆·珀金斯及时受领圣职，当起牧师来了，而他也确实是块当牧师的料于。他先后在威灵顿公学和拉格比公学担任过副校长。
话得说回来，赞扬他在其他学校取得成就是一码事，而在自己学校里，并且还要在他手下共事，那可完全是另一码事。"柏油"先生常常罚他抄书，"水枪"先生还打过他的耳刮子。牧师会竟然作出这等大谬不然的事儿来，实在令人难以想象。谁也不会忘掉他是个破产布商的儿子，而库珀的嗜酒贪杯似乎又往他脸上抹了一层灰。不说也知道，坎特伯雷教长自然是热情支持自己提出来的候选人罗，所以说不定还要设宴替他接风呢。可是，教堂园地内举行的那种赏心悦目的小型宴会，如果让汤姆·珀金斯成了座上客，是否还能保持同样的雅趣呢？兵站方面会有何反应？他根本别指望军官和上流人士会容许他进入他们的生活圈子；如果真的进入了，对学校的危害简直无法估量。家长们肯定会对此表示不满，要是大批学生突然中途退学，也不会令人感到意外。再说，到时候还要称他一声"珀金斯先生"，实在太有失体面！教师们真想集体递交辞呈以示抗议，但是万一上面处之泰然，真的接受了他们的辞呈，岂非弄巧成拙？！想到这里义只得作罢。
"没别的法子，只得以不变应付万变罗，""常叹气"先生说。五年级的课他已教了二十五年，至于教学，再找不到比他豆窝囊的了。
教师们和新校长见面之后，心里也未必就踏实些。弗莱明博士邀请他们在午餐时同新校长见面。他现在已是三十二岁的人了，又高又瘦，而他那副不修边幅的邋遢相，还是和教师们记忆中的那个小男孩一模一样。几件做工蹩脚的衣服胡乱地套在身上，一副寒酸相。满头蓬松的乱发还是像以前那样又黑又长，显然他从来没学会怎么梳理头发；他一挥手，一跺足，那一绺绺头发就耷拉到脑门上，随后又猛地一抬手，把头发从眼睛旁撩回去。脸上胡子拉碴，黑乎乎的一片，差不多快长到了颧骨上。他同教师们谈起话来从容自在，好像同他们才分手了一两个星期。显然，他见到他们很高兴。对于他新任的职务，他似乎一点儿也不感到生疏。人们称他"珀金斯先生"，他也不觉着这里面有什么可以大惊小怪的地方。
他同教师们道别时，有位没话找话的教师，随口说了一声"离火车开车时间还早着呢"。
"我想各处去转一转，顺便看看那个铺子，"珀金斯兴冲冲地回答说。
在场的人明显地感到困窘。他们暗暗奇怪这家伙怎么会这般愣头愣脑的；而那位弗莱明博土偏偏没听清楚珀金斯的话，气氛越发显得尴尬。他的太太冲着他耳朵大声嚷嚷：
"他想各处去转一转，顺便看看他父亲的老铺子。"
所有在场的人都辨出了话里的羞辱之意，唯独汤姆·珀金斯无所察觉。他转身面向弗莱明太太：
"您知道那铺子现在归谁啦？"
她差点答不上话来，心里恼火得什么似的。
"还是落在一个布商手里呗，"她没好气地说。"名字叫格罗夫。我们现在不上那家铺子买东西了。"
"不知道他肯不肯让我进去看看。"
"我想，要是说清楚您是谁，他会让您看的吧。"
直到晚上吃完晚饭，教员公用室里才有人提到那件在肚里憋了好半天的事儿。是"常叹气"先生开的头。他问：
"嗯，诸位觉得我们这位新上司如何？"
他们想着午餐时的那场交谈。其实也算不上什么交谈，而是一场独白，是珀金斯一个人不停地自拉自唱。他说起话来口若悬河，滔滔不绝，嗓音深沉而洪亮。他咧嘴一笑，露出一口洁白的牙齿，笑声短促而古怪。他们听他讲话很费力，且不得要领。他一会儿讲这，一会儿讲那，不断变换话题，他们往往抓不住他前言后语的联系。他谈到教学法，这是自然不过的，可他却大讲了一通闻所未闻的德国现代理论，听得教师们莫不栖栖惶惶。他谈到古典文学，可又说起本人曾去过希腊，接着又拉扯到考古学上，说他曾经花了整整一个冬天挖掘古物。他们实在不明白，这套玩意儿对于教师辅导学生应付考试究竟有何稗益。他还谈到政治。教师们听到他把贝根斯菲尔德勋爵同阿尔基维泽斯相提并论时，不免感到莫名其妙。他还谈到了格莱斯顿先生和地方自治。他们这才恍然大悟，这家伙原来是个自由党人。众人心头顿时凉了半截。他还谈到了德国哲学和法国小说。教师们认为，一个什么都要涉猎、玩赏的人，在学术上肯定不会造诣很深的。
最后还是那位"瞌睡虫"先生，画龙点睛地把大家的想法概括成一句精辟妙语。"瞌睡虫"是三年级高班的级任老师，生性懦弱，眼皮子老是耷拉着。瘦高挑个儿，有气无力，动作迟钝、呆板，给人一种终日没精打采的印象，别人给他起的那个雅号，倒真是入木三分，贴切得很。
"此人乃是热情冲动之徒，""瞌睡虫"说。
热情溢于言表，乃是缺乏教养的表现。热情冲动，绝非绅士应有的风度，让人联想到救世军吹吹打打的哄闹场面。热情意味着变动。这些老夫子想到合人心意的传统积习危在旦夕，不由得浑身起了鸡皮疙瘩。前途简直不堪设想。
"瞧他那副模样，越来越像个吉卜赛人了，"沉默了一阵子以后，有人这么说。
"我怀疑教长和牧师会选定此人时，是否知道他是个激进分子，"另一个人悻悻然抱怨说。
谈话难以继续。众人心乱如麻，语塞喉管。
一星期之后，"柏油"先生和"常叹气"先生结伴同行，去牧师会会堂参加一年一度的授奖典礼。路上，一向说话尖刻的"柏油"先生对那位同事感叹道：
"你我参加这儿的授奖典礼总不算少吧？可谁知道这是不是最后一次呢？！"
"常叹气"比往日更加愁眉苦脸。
"我现在也别无他求，只要能给我安排个稍许像样点的去处，我退休也不在乎个早晚了。"
Chapter 15
The King’s School at Tercanbury, to which Philip went when he was thirteen, prided itself on its antiquity. It traced its origin to an abbey school, founded before the Conquest, where the rudiments of learning were taught by Augustine monks; and, like many another establishment of this sort, on the destruction of the monasteries it had been reorganised by the officers of King Henry VIII and thus acquired its name. Since then, pursuing its modest course, it had given to the sons of the local gentry and of the professional people of Kent an education sufficient to their needs. One or two men of letters, beginning with a poet, than whom only Shakespeare had a more splendid genius, and ending with a writer of prose whose view of life has affected profoundly the generation of which Philip was a member, had gone forth from its gates to achieve fame; it had produced one or two eminent lawyers, but eminent lawyers are common, and one or two soldiers of distinction; but during the three centuries since its separation from the monastic order it had trained especially men of the church, bishops, deans, canons, and above all country clergymen: there were boys in the school whose fathers, grandfathers, great-grandfathers, had been educated there and had all been rectors of parishes in the diocese of Tercanbury; and they came to it with their minds made up already to be ordained. But there were signs notwithstanding that even there changes were coming; for a few, repeating what they had heard at home, said that the Church was no longer what it used to be. It wasn’t so much the money; but the class of people who went in for it weren’t the same; and two or three boys knew curates whose fathers were tradesmen: they’d rather go out to the Colonies (in those days the Colonies were still the last hope of those who could get nothing to do in England) than be a curate under some chap who wasn’t a gentleman. At King’s School, as at Blackstable Vicarage, a tradesman was anyone who was not lucky enough to own land (and here a fine distinction was made between the gentleman farmer and the landowner), or did not follow one of the four professions to which it was possible for a gentleman to belong. Among the day-boys, of whom there were about a hundred and fifty, sons of the local gentry and of the men stationed at the depot, those whose fathers were engaged in business were made to feel the degradation of their state.
The masters had no patience with modern ideas of education, which they read of sometimes in The Times or The Guardian, and hoped fervently that King’s School would remain true to its old traditions. The dead languages were taught with such thoroughness that an old boy seldom thought of Homer or Virgil in after life without a qualm of boredom; and though in the common room at dinner one or two bolder spirits suggested that mathematics were of increasing importance, the general feeling was that they were a less noble study than the classics. Neither German nor chemistry was taught, and French only by the form-masters; they could keep order better than a foreigner, and, since they knew the grammar as well as any Frenchman, it seemed unimportant that none of them could have got a cup of coffee in the restaurant at Boulogne unless the waiter had known a little English. Geography was taught chiefly by making boys draw maps, and this was a favourite occupation, especially when the country dealt with was mountainous: it was possible to waste a great deal of time in drawing the Andes or the Apennines. The masters, graduates of Oxford or Cambridge, were ordained and unmarried; if by chance they wished to marry they could only do so by accepting one of the smaller livings at the disposal of the Chapter; but for many years none of them had cared to leave the refined society of Tercanbury, which owing to the cavalry depot had a martial as well as an ecclesiastical tone, for the monotony of life in a country rectory; and they were now all men of middle age.
The headmaster, on the other hand, was obliged to be married and he conducted the school till age began to tell upon him. When he retired he was rewarded with a much better living than any of the under-masters could hope for, and an honorary Canonry.
But a year before Philip entered the school a great change had come over it. It had been obvious for some time that Dr. Fleming, who had been headmaster for the quarter of a century, was become too deaf to continue his work to the greater glory of God; and when one of the livings on the outskirts of the city fell vacant, with a stipend of six hundred a year, the Chapter offered it to him in such a manner as to imply that they thought it high time for him to retire. He could nurse his ailments comfortably on such an income. Two or three curates who had hoped for preferment told their wives it was scandalous to give a parish that needed a young, strong, and energetic man to an old fellow who knew nothing of parochial work, and had feathered his nest already; but the mutterings of the unbeneficed clergy do not reach the ears of a cathedral Chapter. And as for the parishioners they had nothing to say in the matter, and therefore nobody asked for their opinion. The Wesleyans and the Baptists both had chapels in the village.
When Dr. Fleming was thus disposed of it became necessary to find a successor. It was contrary to the traditions of the school that one of the lower-masters should be chosen. The common-room was unanimous in desiring the election of Mr. Watson, headmaster of the preparatory school; he could hardly be described as already a master of King’s School, they had all known him for twenty years, and there was no danger that he would make a nuisance of himself. But the Chapter sprang a surprise on them. It chose a man called Perkins. At first nobody knew who Perkins was, and the name favourably impressed no one; but before the shock of it had passed away, it was realised that Perkins was the son of Perkins the linendraper. Dr. Fleming informed the masters just before dinner, and his manner showed his consternation. Such of them as were dining in, ate their meal almost in silence, and no reference was made to the matter till the servants had left the room. Then they set to. The names of those present on this occasion are unimportant, but they had been known to generations of school-boys as Sighs, Tar, Winks, Squirts, and Pat.
They all knew Tom Perkins. The first thing about him was that he was not a gentleman. They remembered him quite well. He was a small, dark boy, with untidy black hair and large eyes. He looked like a gipsy. He had come to the school as a day-boy, with the best scholarship on their endowment, so that his education had cost him nothing. Of course he was brilliant. At every Speech-Day he was loaded with prizes. He was their show-boy, and they remembered now bitterly their fear that he would try to get some scholarship at one of the larger public schools and so pass out of their hands. Dr. Fleming had gone to the linendraper his father—they all remembered the shop, Perkins and Cooper, in St. Catherine’s Street—and said he hoped Tom would remain with them till he went to Oxford. The school was Perkins and Cooper’s best customer, and Mr. Perkins was only too glad to give the required assurance. Tom Perkins continued to triumph, he was the finest classical scholar that Dr. Fleming remembered, and on leaving the school took with him the most valuable scholarship they had to offer. He got another at Magdalen and settled down to a brilliant career at the University. The school magazine recorded the distinctions he achieved year after year, and when he got his double first Dr. Fleming himself wrote a few words of eulogy on the front page. It was with greater satisfaction that they welcomed his success, since Perkins and Cooper had fallen upon evil days: Cooper drank like a fish, and just before Tom Perkins took his degree the linendrapers filed their petition in bankruptcy.
In due course Tom Perkins took Holy Orders and entered upon the profession for which he was so admirably suited. He had been an assistant master at Wellington and then at Rugby.
But there was quite a difference between welcoming his success at other schools and serving under his leadership in their own. Tar had frequently given him lines, and Squirts had boxed his ears. They could not imagine how the Chapter had made such a mistake. No one could be expected to forget that he was the son of a bankrupt linendraper, and the alcoholism of Cooper seemed to increase the disgrace. It was understood that the Dean had supported his candidature with zeal, so the Dean would probably ask him to dinner; but would the pleasant little dinners in the precincts ever be the same when Tom Perkins sat at the table? And what about the depot? He really could not expect officers and gentlemen to receive him as one of themselves. It would do the school incalculable harm. Parents would be dissatisfied, and no one could be surprised if there were wholesale withdrawals. And then the indignity of calling him Mr. Perkins! The masters thought by way of protest of sending in their resignations in a body, but the uneasy fear that they would be accepted with equanimity restrained them.
‘The only thing is to prepare ourselves for changes,’ said Sighs, who had conducted the fifth form for five and twenty years with unparalleled incompetence.
And when they saw him they were not reassured. Dr. Fleming invited them to meet him at luncheon. He was now a man of thirty-two, tall and lean, but with the same wild and unkempt look they remembered on him as a boy. His clothes, ill-made and shabby, were put on untidily. His hair was as black and as long as ever, and he had plainly never learned to brush it; it fell over his forehead with every gesture, and he had a quick movement of the hand with which he pushed it back from his eyes. He had a black moustache and a beard which came high up on his face almost to the cheek-bones, He talked to the masters quite easily, as though he had parted from them a week or two before; he was evidently delighted to see them. He seemed unconscious of the strangeness of the position and appeared not to notice any oddness in being addressed as Mr. Perkins.
When he bade them good-bye, one of the masters, for something to say, remarked that he was allowing himself plenty of time to catch his train.
‘I want to go round and have a look at the shop,’ he answered cheerfully.
There was a distinct embarrassment. They wondered that he could be so tactless, and to make it worse Dr. Fleming had not heard what he said. His wife shouted it in his ear.
‘He wants to go round and look at his father’s old shop.’
Only Tom Perkins was unconscious of the humiliation which the whole party felt. He turned to Mrs. Fleming.
‘Who’s got it now, d’you know?’
She could hardly answer. She was very angry.
‘It’s still a linendraper’s,’ she said bitterly. ‘Grove is the name. We don’t deal there any more.’
‘I wonder if he’d let me go over the house.’
‘I expect he would if you explain who you are.’
It was not till the end of dinner that evening that any reference was made in the common-room to the subject that was in all their minds. Then it was Sighs who asked:
‘Well, what did you think of our new head?’ They thought of the conversation at luncheon. It was hardly a conversation; it was a monologue. Perkins had talked incessantly. He talked very quickly, with a flow of easy words and in a deep, resonant voice. He had a short, odd little laugh which showed his white teeth. They had followed him with difficulty, for his mind darted from subject to subject with a connection they did not always catch. He talked of pedagogics, and this was natural enough; but he had much to say of modern theories in Germany which they had never heard of and received with misgiving. He talked of the classics, but he had been to Greece, and he discoursed of archaeology; he had once spent a winter digging; they could not see how that helped a man to teach boys to pass examinations, He talked of politics. It sounded odd to them to hear him compare Lord Beaconsfield with Alcibiades. He talked of Mr. Gladstone and Home Rule. They realised that he was a Liberal. Their hearts sank. He talked of German philosophy and of French fiction. They could not think a man profound whose interests were so diverse.
It was Winks who summed up the general impression and put it into a form they all felt conclusively damning. Winks was the master of the upper third, a weak-kneed man with drooping eye-lids, He was too tall for his strength, and his movements were slow and languid. He gave an impression of lassitude, and his nickname was eminently appropriate.
‘He’s very enthusiastic,’ said Winks.
Enthusiasm was ill-bred. Enthusiasm was ungentlemanly. They thought of the Salvation Army with its braying trumpets and its drums. Enthusiasm meant change. They had goose-flesh when they thought of all the pleasant old habits which stood in imminent danger. They hardly dared to look forward to the future.
‘He looks more of a gipsy than ever,’ said one, after a pause.
‘I wonder if the Dean and Chapter knew that he was a Radical when they elected him,’ another observed bitterly.
But conversation halted. They were too much disturbed for words.
When Tar and Sighs were walking together to the Chapter House on Speech-Day a week later, Tar, who had a bitter tongue, remarked to his colleague:
‘Well, we’ve seen a good many Speech-Days here, haven’t we? I wonder if we shall see another.’
Sighs was more melancholy even than usual.
‘If anything worth having comes along in the way of a living I don’t mind when I retire.’
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