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Presently Mr. Voules was hammering the table for the fourth time in
the interests of the Best Man....
All feasts come to an end at last, and the breakup of things was
precipitated by alarming symptoms on the part of Master Punt. He was
taken out hastily after a whispered consultation, and since he had got
into the corner between the fireplace and the cupboard, that meant
everyone moving to make way for him. Johnson took the opportunity to
say, "Well--so long," to anyone who might be listening, and disappear.
Mr. Polly found himself smoking a cigarette and walking up and down
outside in the company of Uncle Pentstemon, while Mr. Voules replaced
bottles in hampers and prepared for departure, and the womenkind of
the party crowded upstairs with the bride. Mr. Polly felt taciturn,
but the events of the day had stirred the mind of Uncle Pentstemon to
speech. And so he spoke, discursively and disconnectedly, a little
heedless of his listener as wise old men will.
"They do say," said Uncle Pentstemon, "one funeral makes many. This
time it's a wedding. But it's all very much of a muchness," said Uncle
Pentstemon....
"
'Am do get in my teeth nowadays," said Uncle Pentstemon, "I can't
understand it. 'Tisn't like there was nubbicks or strings or such in
am. It's a plain food.
'
178
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