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both ways. Gorman, of course, was simply trying to be agreeable. I pointed out--when I succeeded in seizing a place in the conversation--that if Gorman's theory were applied to Ireland Belfast would come out as a reality while Cork, Limerick, and other places like them would be as despicable as Dorsetshire. "Wicklow," I said, "is the playground of Ireland, and it returns nothing but Nationalist members to Parliament. You ought not to go back on your own side, Gorman." Mrs. Ascher shuddered at the mention of Belfast and would not admit that it could be as "real" as Manchester or Leeds. Miss Gibson broke in with a reminiscence of her own. She told us that she had been in Belfast once with a touring company, and thought it was duller on Sunday than any other city in the British Isles. Gorman, after winking at me, appealed to Ascher on the subject of Belfast's prosperity. In his opinion the apparent wealth of that city is built up on an insecure foundation of credit. There is no solidity about it The farmers of the south and west of Ireland, on the other hand, have real wealth, actual savings, stored up in the Post Office Banks, or placed on deposit, in other banks, or hoarded in stockings. Ascher was most unwilling to join in the discussion. He noticed, as I did, that Miss Gibson's attention was wandering. In the end, goaded by Gorman, he said that some one ought to teach the Irish farmers to invest their savings in high class international stocks and bonds. He added that L1 notes kept in drawers and desks are not wealth but merely frozen potentialities of credit. After that, conversation, as might be expected, became impossible for some time, although Ascher apologised humbly. Gorman restored us to cheerfulness by opening a parcel and handing round two enormous boxes of chocolates. One box was settled on the seat between Miss Gibson and Tim. They ate with healthy appetites and obvious delight. When we reached Southampton that box was nearly empty and neither of them seemed any the worse. The other box lay on Mrs. Ascher's knee. She and I and Gorman did our best, but we did not get through the top layer. Ascher only took one small chocolate and, when he thought no one was looking, dropped it out of the window. The motor yacht which Gorman had hired for us turned out to be a swift and well-found ship with a small cabin and possibilities of comfort in a large cockpit aft. We sped down Southampton Water, o
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