After splashing mile after mile along straight, unhedged roads, between stretches of sodden heather […]

about seven years past, with some others of affinity thereto, for my private exercise and satisfaction, I had at leisurable hours composed

Death is another milestone on their way.

Sir Reginald Wingate, High Commissioner in Egypt, was happy for the success of the work he had advocated for years. I grudged him this happiness; for McMahon, who took the actual risk of starting it, had been broken just before prosperity began.