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Various

"Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 152, February 7, 1917"

We must walk fast and
perhaps we'll meet one. Dash this War anyhow. (_He said, as a matter of
fact, "damn," but I am getting so tired of that word, in print that I shall
employ alternatives every time. Someone really must institute a close
season for "damns" or they won't any longer be funny on the stage; and,
since to laugh in theatres has become a national duty, that, in the present
state of the wit market, would be privation indeed._)
_I_ (_submerged by brain wave_). Perhaps we'll meet one.
_He._ Keep a sharp look out, won't you? I 've got to be there by half-past
one, and I hate to be late.
_I._ Those tailors you were asking me about--I think you'll find them very
decent people. They----
_He_ (_excitedly_). Here comes one. Hi! Hi!
[_A taxi, obviously full of people, approaches and passes, the driver
casting a pitying glance at my poor signalling friend._
_He._ I thought it was free.
_I._ The flag was down.
_He._ I couldn't be sure. What were you saying? Sorry.


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