Had it not been that the pride of Box and Co. was
involved, I believe they would have gone to London in a body, there to form
a lifelong friendship with COX AND CO., out of pure fellow-feeling. But I
have hinted that Box and Co. were a cold inhuman institution, whose
business in life it was to do people down, or go down itself. And so COX
AND CO. had to be for it. Eventually, in the late winter of 1919, Box and
Co. extracted from COX AND CO. the admission that a five had been mistaken
for a three, and I had been done out of twopence, an affair all the more
gross in that it had happened as long ago as the early spring of 1915, and
never a word of remorse meanwhile! A conclusion by which neither Box nor
COX was really satisfied, but which, for me, was enough. We English may
only win one battle in a war, but that battle is the last.
Possibly, my dear Charles, you have a soft spot in your heart for this COX
AND CO., never failing in courtesy and attention and ever heaped with
abuse? So, to be frank, have I.
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