″‘You’re a Utilitarian, sir!’ said MCC, snatching it back.
‘I’m a Sikh, sir!’
‘But you think a thing is beautiful only if it’s useful. You are a Utilitarian!‘”
″‘But it was all lies,’ whispered Mrs. Povey, there being no polite way to put it.
MCC Berkshire drew himself up to his full six foot and more. ‘Lies, madam?’
‘Well, er... yes actually... lies.’
‘Not lies, madam,’ he declared, magnificently unrepentant. ‘Fiction...‘”
“So they waited, and grumbled, and watched the macaroni cheese congeal between them on the table. But MCC Berkshire never came for his supper. Not that night or any night.”
“She eased her shoulder out from under his chin and turned to look at him properly, wondering if this was the kind of stranger she was supposed not to speak to. On the whole, she thought he was.”
″‘It didn’t seem right just to send him away. He was so very willing... Such a good-looking boy, too,’ she added vaguely.
‘What’s that got to do with it? He’s weird.‘”
″‘Oh, I’ll work for nothing! Don’t you worry about the money side. I haven’t got any, either. Don’t think another thing about it. A bite of lunch and a free run of the books you’ve got in stock.‘”
″‘You’ll help me, won’t you?’ he cried, walking across to Ailsa on his knees. ‘You won’t see my thrown out to wander the streets with nothing but traffic signs and graffiti to read and nowhere to lay my head at night!‘”
“I don’t know about luck, you young -er- but it’s brought me the best morning’s entertainment since General Patton got trod on by the regimental drummer’s horse.”