Come on."
"I wish to goodness," said the Major, rising, "that you'd occasionally
try to be in time for a meal."
"There's no use wishing that. I won't. It's a matter of principle
with me. I regard punctuality as the vice of little minds. Time is
meant to be the servant, not the master of--"
"Don't begin a tirade," said the Major, "but let us get at what's left
of our dinner. There won't be much, and what there is will be charred."
"Wait a minute," said Meldon. "I don't deny that I'm hungry and tired,
but I'd rather ride all the way back to Donard than sit down at table
with you in the temper you're in at present."
"It'll be worse," said the Major, "if I'm kept waiting any longer. And
I know what your tirades are. If you start on a vague sort of subject
like time you'll be at it for an hour before you've finished."
"Very well," said Meldon. "As a matter of fact, what I wanted to say
wouldn't have taken five minutes, and I could have said it while you
were ladling out the soup. But if you'd rather gorge down your food
like a wild beast in a cavern without the civilising accompaniment of
intellectual conversation, you can.
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