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Douglas, Norman, 1868-1952

"Rambles Among the Oases of Tunisia"

But
we are not in Paris or London just now; we can say what we think. Or
better still" (glowing with enthusiasm), "they tie them to the mouth of a
big gun, and then--_Boum ... houpla!! Biftek a la tartare_."
"You are misinformed, my friend," said the voice from the other table.
"That Indian cannon business was merely an administrative experiment."
I looked at the speaker, who was smiling mirthfully to himself. He was a
fair-complexioned man of about forty-five, rather carefully dressed,
blue-eyed, with a short, well-groomed beard--evidently an old acquaintance
of the company.
"It's all right for you," the other retorted, "with your comfortable
offices and your fat, ever-increasing salaries. You are not a harassed
agriculturist, skulking in fear of his life, or a public servant, starving
on four francs a day. Behold!" he went on, extracting a newspaper out of
his pocket, "behold the latest portrait of yourself and your
colleagues--you have an air of revolting prosperity. And your whole
biography, too, in black and white; your wife, your children, your past
career ...


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