The Salvation Of Pisco Gabar And Other Stories - Plot & Excerpts
“No!” said Bill. “I was of the public, and I recognize my incompetence. So would you, if you had ever seen a big 4–6–2 Great Western locomotive stopped three yards from the east-bound tunnel in Earl’s Court station.” I did see it. There must have been thousands of Londoners who saw it. In a station meant for District trains skittering like mice from one hole to another was this great green monster which had never moved without space and due ceremony, immobilized, sweating steam, and obviously terrified. The tunnel into which it would have been driven, had the six-foot driving wheels made half a revolution more, was of less height than the boiler. “Anarchy!” Bill went on. “The skilled workers couldn’t stand it any more than a trained nurse can bear to see an ignorant mother pick the baby up wrong way round. They had to interfere or bust. It wasn’t our ability that beat them; it was their horror at our inability.” Somebody said that paradox had no place in serious argument, and that the waiter was waiting.
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