ty-four hours to say to every man, woman, and child I met--is
"Mabel and I are betrothed, and all is gas and gaiters." But that
wouldn't be a very good opening for a letter of strictly formal, not to
say sinister, character. I have got as far as "Dear Mr Marlowe." What
comes next?'

'I am sending you a manuscript,' she prompted, 'which I thought you
might like to see.'

'Do you realize,' he said, 'that in that sentence there are only two
words of more than one syllable? This letter is meant to impress, not to
put him at his ease. We must have long words.'

'I don't see why,' she answered. 'I know it is usual, but why is it? I
have had a great many letters from lawyers and business people, and
they always begin, "with reference to our communication", or some such
mouthful, and go on like that all the way through. Yet when I see them
they don't talk like that. It seems ridiculous to me.'

'It is not at all ridiculous to them.' Trent laid aside the pen with
an appearance of relief and rose to his feet. 'Let me explain. A people
like our own, not very fond of using its mind, gets on in the ordinary
way with a very small and simple vocabulary. Long words are abnormal,
and like everything else that is abnormal, they are either very funny
or tremendously solemn. Take the phrase "intelligent anticipation", for
instance. If such a phrase had been used in any other country in Europe,
it would not have attracted the slightest attention. With us it has
become a proverb; we all grin when we hear it in a speech or read it in
a leading article; it is considered to be one of the best things
ever said. Why? Just because it consists of two long words. The idea
expressed is as commonplace as cold mutton. Then there's "terminological
inexactitude". How we all roared, and are still roaring, at that! And
the whole of the joke is that the words are long. It's just the same
when we want to be very serious; we mark it by turning to long
words. When a solicitor can begin a sentence with, "pursuant to the
instructions communicated to our representative," or some such gibberish,
he feels that he is earning his six-and-eightpence. Don't laugh! It
is perfectly true. Now Continentals haven't got that feeling. They are
always bothering about ideas, and the result is that every shopkeeper or
peasant has a vocabulary in daily use that is simply Greek to the vast
majority of Britons. I remember some time ago I was dining with a
friend of mine who is