"
"That's just what you're doing; and my fear is, you'll stand up
presently and make one in ours."
"I'm sorry, Jack," I apologised. "Fact is, I'm worried by a
half-promise I made to your man Farrell, over the river--"
"_My_ man Farrell?" says Foe. "Farrell? . . . Farrell? . . . Never
heard of him. Who's Farrell?"
"Never heard of him? . . . Why, Farrell's our candidate over there!
. . . _Your_ candidate; because, if elected, he'll represent you;
because your College and--if you choose to narrow it down--your own
laboratories and lecture-rooms--will belong to his constituency.
The rates on your buildings, the trams that bring your poorer
students, the public money that pays their scholarships--"
"My dear Roddy," he broke in. "You know that I never could get up an
interest in politics. As for local politics--"
That fired me up at once. "Pretty silly sneer, that! Doesn't there
lurk, somewhere down in your consciousness, _some_ sense of belonging
to the first city in the world? . . . Oh, yes, you use it, fast
enough, whenever you go back to Cambridge and play the condescending
metropolitan in Combination Room.
Pages:
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49