went back with him to the Pharmacy--the low-class business grew brisker
in the evening and they kept open late--he reverted to it in a low
expository tone. "Your aunt's a bit impatient, George. She gets at me.
It's only natural.... A woman doesn't understand how long it takes
to build up a position. No.... In certain directions now--I
am--quietly--building up a position. Now here.... I get this room. I
have my three assistants. Zzzz. It's a position that, judged by the
criterion of imeedjit income, isn't perhaps so good as I deserve,
but strategically--yes. It's what I want. I make my plans. I rally my
attack."

"What plans," I said, "are you making?"

"Well, George, there's one thing you can rely upon, I'm doing nothing in
a hurry. I turn over this one and that, and I don't talk--indiscreetly.
There's--No! I don't think I can tell you that. And yet, why NOT?"

He got up and closed the door into the shop. "I've told no one," he
remarked, as he sat down again. "I owe you something."

His face flushed slightly, he leant forward over the little table
towards me.

"Listen!" he said.

I listened.

"Tono-Bungay," said my uncle very slowly and distinctly.

I thought he was asking me to hear some remote, strange noise. "I don't