Great Britain -- Politics and government -- 20th century -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Politicians -- Fiction
He grew a little drowsy again, and in his drowsiness again played tennis
at Nutley, again dined at Halton, again saw Vivien in the butcher's
shop, and again was told by Mr. Belfield not to undervalue himself. But
is to take nigh on five hundred pounds a year to undervalue
yourself--you who are making a precarious two? And where lies the
difference between selling wood and selling meat--wood from Canada and
meat in Meriton? Andy's broad conception of the world told him that
there was none; his narrow observation of the same sphere convinced him
that the difference was, in its practical bearings, considerable. Nay,
confine yourself to meat alone: was there no difference between
importing cargoes of that questionable "chilled" article and disposing
of joints of unquestionable "home-bred" over the counter? All the
argument was for the home-bred. But to sell the home-bred joints one
wore a blue apron and carried a knife and a steel--or, at all events,
smacked of doing these things; whereas the wholesale cargoes of
"chilled" involved no such implements or associations. Once again,
Canada was Canada, New Zealand New Zealand, Meriton Meriton. With these
considerations mingled two pictures--dinner at Halton, and Jack Rock's
convivial party.
"I'll get up," said Andy, too sore beset by his problem to lie abed any
more.
Church! The bells rang almost as soon as Andy--he had dawdled and
lounged over dressing and breakfast in Sunday's beneficent leisure--was
equipped for the day. In Meriton everybody went to Church, except an
insignificant, tolerated, almost derided minority who frequented a very
small, very ugly Methodist chapel in a by-street--for towns like Meriton
are among the best preserves of the Establishment. Andy always went to
church on a Sunday morning, answering the roll-call, attending parade,
accepting the fruits of his fathers' wisdom, as his custom was. "Church,
and a slice of that cold beef, and then a jolly long walk!" he said to
himself. He had a notion that this typical English Sunday--the relative
value of whose constituents he did not, and we need not, exactly
assess--might help him to settle his problem. The cold beef and the long
walk made part of the day's character--the "Church" completed it. This
was Andy's feeling; it is not, of course, put forward as what he ought
to have felt.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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