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There is one point that saddens me about our club and that is the factions. Now there have always been factions about, and the dimmest of us can see that birds of a feather flock and all that. I speak of more hardy lots that have a certain rigidity, with a tinge of turpitude, which I have always found unsettling vis-à-vis club life — the sort of chaps who, when hearing of world hunger, would be inclined to say, “Hard cheese, old boy.”

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