Nothing else so quickly establishes the condition of comradeship as the sharing of a laughable incident. “You were talking to that fellow Ramage to-day—in the Avenue. Don't feel fussed upon my account. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. One’s got to be a better man than one’s father, or what is the good of successive generations? Life is rebellion, or nothing. Voting wouldn’t do no ‘arm to ‘er. "He called me a wanton, Hoddy.
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