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"Will he have champagne?"

"Sure to. He enjoys heavy official backing and tonight he's got two distinguished foreigners to impress. It's pleasant to get into a completely civilian circle once in a while. D'you read his paper?"

"No."

"Nor do I. But it's very highly thought of. Winston reads it."

"I don't believe you."

"Well, perhaps not personally. But a copy goes to the Cabinet Offices, I happen to know."

"I hardly know Spruce. The Loot's going."

"Then anyone can. He'll be able to get a cab. They always stop for Americans."

Lieutenant Padfield was still at work on his correspondence; he wrote rather laboriously; the pen did not come readily to him; in youth he had typed; in earliest manhood dictated. Ian sent him up to Piccadilly and, sure enough, he returned in a quarter of an hour with a taxi.

"Glad to have you come with me," he said. "I thought you were not acquainted with Spruce."

"I changed my mind."

"Survival is a very significant organ of opinion."

"Signifying what, Loot?"

"The survival of values."

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