"Come in," he said, just as though
there was some one knocking at the door. But no single head was
turned. If there was an entry it was utterly ignored.
"Happy as what?"
"As you," the figure went on faster than ever. "And that's why England
to-day is an island of quite a respectable size, and why everybody
pretends it's dry and comfortable and cosy, and why people never leave
it except to go away for holidays that cannot possibly be avoided."
"I beg your pardon, sir," began an awful voice behind the chair.
"And why to this day," he continued as though he had not heard, "a
squirrel always curls its tail above its back, why a rabbit wears a
stump like a pen wiper, and why a mouse lives sometimes in a house and
sometimes in a field, and--"
_"I beg your pardon, sir,"_ clanged the slow, awful voice in a tone
that was meant to be heard distinctly, "but it's long gone 'arf-past
six, and--"
"Time for bed," added the figure with a sound that was like the
falling of an executioner's axe. And, as if to emphasise the arrival
of the remorseless moment, the clock just then struck loudly on the
mantelpiece--seven times.
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