And there have been times, in the pre-1914 past, when I have felt it
would be better to go without money than to have the stuff thrown at me,
shovelled at me in that contemptuous offhand manner. I now repaired in
person to the premises of Box and Co., with their handsome marble facade
and their costly mahogany fittings, and had a word with Mr. Box himself. A
little artful flattery, a few simple lies and just a touch of ginger in the
matter of professional competition, and Box and Co. were brought into the
war. I handed them COX AND CO.'s pass-book and told them that now was their
time to go in and win.
I used to look in every other day to see how the struggle went. At first
Box and Co. were confident, remarking on my wisdom in placing myself (and
my pass-book) in such competent hands as theirs. But as the correspondence
went on their enthusiasm wore off; Mr. Box gave vent to observations
reflecting ill on the Army system of pay, on the Army itself, even on that
part of it which was me.
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