He Zzzzed for a time and ceased.
“Yes,” he said at last in the tone of a man who has at last emerged with ultimate solutions to the profoundest problems.
“What?” I said after a seemly pause.
My uncle hung fire for a moment and it seemed to me the fate of nations trembled in the balance. Then he spoke as one who speaks from the very bottom of his heart—and I think it was the very bottom of his heart.
“I’d jes’ like to drop into the Eastry Arms, jes’ when all those beggars in the parlour are sittin’ down to whist, Ruck and Marbel and all, and give ’em ten minutes of my mind, George. Straight from the shoulder. Jes’ exactly what I think of them. It’s a little thing, but I’d like to do it jes’ once before I die.”...
He rested on that for some time Zzzz-ing.
Then he broke out at a new place in a tone of detached criticism.
“There’s Boom,” he reflected.
“It’s a wonderful system this old British system, George. It’s staid and stable and yet it has a place for new men. We come up and take our places. It’s almost expected. We take a hand. That’s where our Democracy differs from America. Over there a man succeeds; all he gets is money. Here there’s a system open to every one—practically.... Chaps like Boom—come from nowhere.”
His voice ceased. I reflected upon the spirit of his words. Suddenly I kicked my feet in the air, rolled on my side and sat up suddenly on my deck chair with my legs down.