"A _fearful_ row." "I suppose," he argued, "you've really thought it out thoroughly, Redwood.

You're quite sure it wouldn't be wiser to warn Winkles, wean your little boy gradually, and--and rely upon the Theoretical Triumph ?" "I wish to goodness you'd spend half an hour in my nursery when the Food's a little late," said Redwood, with a note of exasperation in his voice; "then you wouldn't talk like that, Bensington.

Besides--Fancy warning Winkles...

No! The tide of this thing has caught us unawares, and whether we're frightened or whether we're not--_we've got to swim!_" "I suppose we have," said Bensington, staring at his toes.

"Yes.