"What good is it to us when we're put to sweep rooms and carry messages ?" "Do you mean to say you intend to stick to that sort of thing all your life ?" asked Reg.
"Till I can find something better," said Horace.

"After all, old man, it's honest work, and not very fagging, and it's eighteen shillings a week." "Anyhow, I think we might let Richmond know what a nice berth he's let us in for.

Why, his office-boy's better off." "Yes, and if we knew as much about book-keeping and agreement stamps and copying presses as his office-boy does, we might be as well off.

What's the good of knowing how many ships fought at Salamis, when we don't even know how many ounces you can send by post for twopence?
At least, I don't.

Good-night, old man." And Horace, really scarcely less miserable at heart than his brother, buried his nose in the Dull Street pillow and tried to go to sleep..