If John Grantham Browne had a fault-which, mind you, I am not prepared to admit-it lay in the fact that he was the possessor of a cynical wit which he was apt at times to use upon his friends with somewhat peculiar effect. Circumstances alter cases, and many people would have argued that he was perfectly entitled to say what he pleased. When a man is worth a hundred and twenty thousand pounds a year-which, worked out, means ten thousand pounds a month,...