' He was an earl, or something such, with a country-seat in
Warwick, or on the borders of Gloucestershire; 'and if I only had a year
and the money to make a journey among the manor-houses of mid-England,' I
said, 'and to dig for a while in their muniment-rooms....' Well, you get
the idea, all right enough.
"He came across and sat on the arm of the big easy-chair. 'If you went over
there and discovered all that, the English scholars would never forgive
you.' As of course they wouldn't: look at the recent Shaxper discoveries by
Americans in London! 'And wouldn't that be a rather sensational thesis,' he
went on, 'from a staid candidate for an M.A., or a Ph.D., or a Litt.D., or
whatever it is you're after?' It would, of a verity; and why shouldn't it
be? 'Don't go over there,' he ended with a smile, as he dropped his hand on
my shoulder; 'your friends would rather have you here.' 'Never fear!' I
returned; 'I can't possibly manage it. I shall just do something on "The
Disjunctive Conjunctions in 'Paradise Lost,'" and let it go at that!'
"He got up to reach for the ash-receiver. 'They tell me,' he said, 'that a
degree isn't much in itself--just an _etape_ on the journey to a
better professional standing.
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