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to say "byword") . . . "such a bugle-call to your
brother pacifists". Here, ignoring my sister pacifists,
he relinquished my hand and became confidential!
"My name is Macamble. I venture to hope that it is
not altogether unknown to you. And I have been so
bold as to call on you, in the belief that I can be of
some assistance to you in the inexpressibly painful
confinement to which you are being subjected." At
this juncture the man with whom I was going to play
golf paraded impatiently past us, clattering his clubs.
"What you must have endured!" he went on, moder-
ating his voice at last, as if he had just remembered
that we might be "overheard by an unfriendly ear".
"More than two months among men driven mad by
gun-fire! I marvel that you have retained your rea-
son." (I might have reminded him that he hadn't
yet ascertained that I had really retained it, but I
merely glanced furtively at my golfing partner, whose
back-view, with legs wide apart, was to be seen on
the strip of grass in front of the hydro, solemnly
swinging a brassy at an imaginary ball.) Doctor Mac-
amble now proposed that we should take a little walk
together; he very much wanted to discuss the whole
question of the "Stop-the-War Campaign". But I
very much wanted to stop being talked to by Doctor
Macamble, so I said that I'd got to go and see my
doctor. "Ah, the famous Dr. Rivers!" he murmured,
with what appeared to be a conspiratorial glance. He
then invited me to go down to Edinburgh and con-
tinue our conversation, and I agreed to do so on the
following afternoon. I couldn't very well refuse point-
blank, and in any case I was due there for a hair-cut.