hand squeezing your windpipe tighter and tighter in a quarrel that

isn't, properly speaking, yours?

If I had a chance against him--" protested Mr. Polly.

It's no Good, you see," said Mr. Polly.

He stood up as though his decision was made, and was for an instant

struck still by doubt.

There lay the road before him going this way to the east and that to

the west.

Westward, one hour away now, was the Potwell Inn. Already things might

be happening there....

Eastward was the wise man's course, a road dipping between hedges to a

hop garden and a wood and presently no doubt reaching an inn, a

picturesque church, perhaps, a village and fresh company. The wise

man's course. Mr. Polly saw himself going along it, and tried to see

himself going along it with all the self-applause a wise man feels.

But somehow it wouldn't come like that. The wise man fell short of

happiness for all his wisdom. The wise man had a paunch and round

shoulders and red ears and excuses. It was a pleasant road, and why

the wise man should not go along it merry and singing, full of summer

happiness, was a miracle to Mr. Polly's mind, but confound it! the

291

The History of Mr Polly