Quite franldy, as I walked those trim paths to the
pylon- guarded doorway, carved like a Hindu temple, that admits the inquirer to the hall of the I.L.O., I felt that the world had scraped along for a good many centuries without all this fuss about the way we fulfil the curse of Adam. Such a shrine to what all respectable people do, seemed rather reminiscent of the awed attitude to Labour which was prevalent after the War. Two large bronzes depicting rugged sons of toil, which adorned the hall, confirmed this first impression. I give it for what it is worth, believing that many people, as misinformed as I was, still think that the I.L.O. is a kind of missionary society in the cause of industrial peace, composed of well-meaning people who, finding a difficulty in earning a living in other ways, have taken to Good Works.
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