Nobody is all of a piece, not even the Webbs. I once remarked to Shaw that Webb seemed to me somewhat deficient in kindly feeling.
`No,' Shaw replied, `you are quite mistaken. Webb and I were once in a tram car in Holland eating biscuits out of a bag. A handcuffed criminal was brought into the tram by policemen. All the other passengers shrank away in horror, but Webb went up to the prisoner and offered him biscuits.'
I remember this story whenever I find myself becoming unduly critical of either Webb or Shaw.
From Bertrand Russell, Portraits from Memory . . . (1956), p. 100.
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