"All the birds of Wellingsford."
"I did go to see him now and then," he admitted. "I thought he was
much maligned. A man with sincere opinions, even though they're
wrong, is deserving of some respect, especially when the
expression of them involves considerable courage and sacrifice. I
wanted to get to the bottom of his point of view."
"If you used such a metaphor in the Albemarle," I interrupted,
"I'm afraid you would be sacrificed by your friends."
He had the grace to laugh. "You know what I mean."
"And did you get to the bottom of it?"
"I think so."
"And what did you find?"
"Crass ignorance and malevolent hatred of everyone better born,
better educated, better off, better dressed, better spoken than
himself."
"Still," said I, "a human being can have those disabilities and
yet not deserve to be qualified as the most infernal swine
unhung."
"That's a different matter," said he, unbuttoning his canvas
jacket, for the morning was warm. "I can talk patiently to a fool
--to be able to do so is an elementary equipment for a life among
men and women--" Why the deuce, thought I, wasn't he expending
this precious acquirement on a platoon of agricultural recruits?
The officer who suffers such gladly has his name inscribed on the
Golden Legend (unfortunately unpublished) of the British Army--
"but when it comes," he went on, "to low-down lying knavery, then
I'm done.
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