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The Poison Belt | Arthur Conan Doyle | |
The Tide Of Death |
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"Well, gentlemen," he said, in a voice as if he was addressing a public meeting, "this is indeed an interesting reunion, and it takes place under extraordinary--I may say unprecedented--circumstances. May I ask if you have observed anything upon your journey from town?" "The only thing which I observed," said Summerlee with a sour smile, "was that our young friend here has not improved in his manners during the years that have passed. I am sorry to state that I have had to seriously complain of his conduct in the train, and I should be wanting in frankness if I did not say that it has left a most unpleasant impression in my mind." "Well, well, we all get a bit prosy sometimes," said Lord John. "The young fellah meant no real harm. After all, he's an International, so if he takes half an hour to describe a game of football he has more right to do it than most folk." "Half an hour to describe a game!" I cried indignantly. "Why, it was you that took half an hour with some long-winded story about a buffalo. Professor Summerlee will be my witness." "I can hardly judge which of you was the most utterly wearisome," said Summerlee. "I declare to you, Challenger, that I never wish to hear of football or of buffaloes so long as I live." "I have never said one word to-day about football," I protested. Lord John gave a shrill whistle, and Summerlee shook his head sadly. "So early in the day too," said he. "It is indeed deplorable. As I sat there in sad but thoughtful silence----" |
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