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Yates, Dornford, 1885-1960

"Berry And Co."


Hitherto we had encountered little or no traffic, and an excellent
judgment, coupled with something akin to instinct, on the part of Fitch
had brought us surely along the streets; but here, almost before we knew
it, there were vehicles in front and on either side. Hoarse directions
were being shouted, lanterns were being waved, engines were running, and
a few feet away frantic endeavours were being made to persuade a pair of
horses to disregard twin headlights whose brilliancy was adding to the
confusion. Berry lowered the window.
"What about it, Fitch?"
"Well, sir, I'm just opposite the gate, but it's rather awkward to slip
across, in case I meet somethin'. If I 'as to pull up 'alf-way, we might
be run into."
"Which means that one of us must guide you over?"
"It'd be safer, sir."
By a majority of three it was decided that Berry should enact the _role_
of conducting officer. Jonah had a cold, and was sitting on the back
seat between the girls. I had no coat, and required the services of both
hands if I was to hold my shawl in position. Only my brother-in-law
remained. He did not go down without a struggle, but after a vigorous
but vain appeal "to our better natures," he compared himself to a lion
beset by jackals, commented bitterly upon "the hot air which is breathed
about self-sacrifice," and, directing that after death his veins should
be opened in the presence of not less than twelve surgeons, as a
preliminary to his interment in the Dogs' Cemetery, opened the door and
stepped sideways into the roadway.


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