Explore "Tono-Bungay" by H.G. Wells on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Throughout my student days I had not seen my uncle. I refrained from going to him in spite of an occasional regret that in this way I estranged myself from my aunt Susan, and I maintained a sulky attitude of mind towards him. And I don't think that once in all that time I gave a thought to that mystic word of his that was to alter all the world for us. Yet I had not altogether forgotten it. It was with a touch of memory, dim transient perplexity if no more -- why did this thing seem in some way personal? -- that I read a new inscription upon the hoardings:
The Secret of Vigour / Tono-Bungay