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86. CHAPTER LXXXVI (continued)
"I see you're a journalist," said Philip. "What papers d'you write for?"
"I write for all the papers. You cannot open a paper without seeing some of my writing." There was one by the side of the bed and reaching for it he pointed out an advertisement. In large letters was the name of a firm well-known to Philip, Lynn and Sedley, Regent Street, London; and below, in type smaller but still of some magnitude, was the dogmatic statement: Procrastination is the Thief of Time. Then a question, startling because of its reasonableness: Why not order today? There was a repetition, in large letters, like the hammering of conscience on a murderer's heart: Why not? Then, boldly: Thousands of pairs of gloves from the leading markets of the world at astounding prices. Thousands of pairs of stockings from the most reliable manufacturers of the universe at sensational reductions. Finally the question recurred, but flung now like a challenging gauntlet in the lists: Why not order today?
"I'm the press representative of Lynn and Sedley." He gave a little wave of his beautiful hand. "To what base uses..."
Philip went on asking the regulation questions, some a mere matter of routine, others artfully devised to lead the patient to discover things which he might be expected to desire to conceal.
"Have you ever lived abroad?" asked Philip.
"I was in Spain for eleven years."
"What were you doing there?"
"I was secretary of the English water company at Toledo."
Philip remembered that Clutton had spent some months in Toledo, and the journalist's answer made him look at him with more interest; but he felt it would be improper to show this: it was necessary to preserve the distance between the hospital patient and the staff. When he had finished his examination he went on to other beds.
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