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Hope, Anthony, 1863-1933

"é"


Quisante sat up suddenly, leant forward, and spread his hands out. "My
dear May," he replied with a smile, "the facts are stated, stated very
fully."
"There's nothing about the report the Professor did give. You remember
you told me about it?"
"Oh, no, he gave no report."
"Well, you called it a draft report."
"No, no, did I? That was a careless way of speaking if I did. He
certainly sent me some considerations which had occurred to him at the
beginning of his inquiry, but they were based on insufficient information
and were purely provisional. They did not in any sense constitute a
report. It would have been positively misleading to speak of them in any
such way." He was growing eager, animated, almost excited.
May was not inclined to cross-examine him; she knew that he would develop
his case for himself if she sat and listened.
"The whole thing was so inchoate as to be worth nothing," he went on. "We
simply discarded it from our minds; we didn't let it weigh one way or the
other."
"The directors didn't?" That little question she could not resist asking.


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