So Well Remembered Read Free Page B

get a word out. And even now I’m not
as happy on a platform as I am sitting alone in this room with a good book.”
He jerked his head towards the surrounding shelves in another attempt to
steer the conversation, and when Winslow did not immediately reply, he added
more pointedly: “I expect you’re a great reader yourself?”
    “Oh, fairly—when I can find the time.”
    “Aye, that’s the worst of being in public life.” At least they had THAT
bond in common. “You know, sir, there’s only one reason I’d ever wish to be
young again—REALLY young, I mean,” he added, as he saw Winslow smile,
—“and that’s to have summat I missed years ago—a right-down good
education… I’ll never forget when I visited Oxford and saw all those lucky
lads in the colleges…” A sincere emotion entered his voice. “And the
professors in their libraries—I tell you frankly, I…” He saw that
Winslow was still smiling. “Well, I’ll put it this way—there’s only one
thing I’d rather be than in politics, and that’s one of those university
dons, as they call ‘em.”
    “Yet I doubt if many of them are doing any better work than you are here
—judging by what I’ve seen today.”
    George was pleased again, but also slightly shocked by the comparison; he
could not believe that Winslow really meant it, and he was surprised that
such a distinguished man should stoop to mere flattery. “Oh, come now, sir,
I’ll never swallow that. After all, think of the books they write— I’ve
got shelves of ‘em here—heavy stuff, I admit, but grand training for
the mind.”
    “Yes, books are all right.” Winslow gave a little sigh. “Though it’s
remarkable how little help they offer in some of the more curious problems of
life.” George was thinking this a rather strange remark when an even stranger
one followed it. “Look here, Boswell, I’m going to do something I wasn’t sure
about before I met you—partly because I wasn’t sure you were the right
man, and partly because even if you were, I couldn’t be positive how you’d
take it.”
    George looked up with a puzzled expression. There flashed through his mind
the intoxicating possibility that Winslow might be going to ask his advice
about some matter of departmental policy—low- rent housing, say, or an
extension of the school leaving age.
    But Winslow continued: “Quite a coincidence meeting you like this. Several
months ago when I promised to speak at your ceremony today I hadn’t even
heard of you—but when quite recently I did, I decided it might be a
good chance to—to approach you—if—if you seemed the sort of
man who might be approachable. You see, it’s a somewhat unusual and delicate
matter, and there aren’t any rules of etiquette to proceed by.”
    And then there flashed through George’s already puzzled mind another
though less welcome possibility—that Winslow was an emissary of the
Government deputed to find out in advance whether George would accept a title
in recognition of his ‘public services’ to the town of Browdley. It was
highly unlikely, of course, since he was a mere town councillor and did not
belong to the Government party, but still, anything could happen when parties
and politics were fluid and Lloyd George was reputed to cast a discerning eye
upon foes as well as friends. Anyhow, George’s reply would be a straight
‘no’, because he very simply though a trifle truculently did not believe in
titles.
    He saw that Winslow was waiting for a remark, so he called his thoughts to
order and said guardedly: “I’m afraid I don’t quite catch on so far, but
whatever it is, if there’s any way I can help—”
    “Thanks, that’s very kind of you. I hope there is. So if you’ll just let
me go ahead and explain…”
    George nodded, now more puzzled than ever; he could not help thinking that
Winslow was terribly slow in getting to the point, whatever it was. Meanwhile