Up about the
Narrows would be a good place to say farewell," he concluded
thoughtfully.
We had listened patiently enough, but this was too summary. Westley
Keyts is our butcher, a good, honest, energetic, downright business man
with a square forehead and a blunt jaw and red hair that bristles with
challenges. But he seems compelled to say too nearly what he means to
render him useful in negotiations requiring any considerable finesse.
"We were speaking, Westley, of the gentle functions of diplomacy,"
remarked Solon, cuttingly. "Of course, we _could_ waylay Potts and kill
him with one of your cleavers and have his noble head stuffed and
mounted to hang up over Barney Skeyhan's bar, but it wouldn't be
subtle--it would not be what the newspapers call 'a triumph of
diplomacy'! And then, again, reports of it might be carried to other
towns, and talk would be caused."
"Now, say," retorted Westley, somewhat abashed, "I was thinking I
answered all _that_ by winding up the way like I did, asking him,--not
mad-like, you understand,--'Now will you go or _won't_ you?' just like
that. All I can say is, if that ain't diplomacy, then I don't know what
in Time diplomacy _is_!"
I think we conceded this, in silence, be it understood, for Westley is
respected.
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