|
From: | Phil Merrill |
Subject: | dud brownie |
Date: | Sat, 9 Sep 2006 00:29:32 +0200 |
Oh, you cannot have spent it all: you who live like
amouse.
My father had a stroke and wont last long, Im
afraid.
One, two, three:it is irresistible: it is a pulse
in a hundred thousand.
The newly painted wallspresent an attractive color
scheme. You mustwithdraw your threat of an action. Does this business belong to me
or to you? Dont you find my arrival a pleasant sort ofadventure in this den? You
will not get a jury toswallow that without a peck of salt?
What do they do but smokecigars and drink
champagne? How do you know what you did in those moments?
He carries the hotel register, which he opens and
places on thenewspaper table.
TheEgyptian doctor recommended our chef to him; and
he takes his mealshere too. The Russians would shoot you as they would a maddog.
What condition didyour chauffeur find me in?
I shall take a job as scullery maid at a hotelto
fill up my time. Do you wish meto go at once or to carry on until you have replaced
me?
I cant go on slaving for ever; were neither of us
as youngas we were.
I had to take it to a bonesetter; and hecharged me
fifty guineas. I shall take a job as scullery maid at a hotelto fill up my time. But
I ought not to be here: Sagamoreshould not have brought me here. The doctor who
found me can tell youwhat my condition was.
Where there is nothing, the king loses his rights.
That will be quite all right, sir, thank you.
Youd better both go to Russia, where there are
neitherrich nor poor.
Women as you fancy them are nothing tome but
bundles of ailments.
Oh, dont sit there dithering: you dont know whatshe
may be doing.
The manager hurries out, glad to escape from the
mêlée. Oh, it was not my doing, sir: I am only the manager.
She received it: a hundred pounds a
year.
But it obliterated your consciousness of what
happenedbefore the assault. Oh, it was not my doing, sir: I am only the manager.
|
[Prev in Thread] | Current Thread | [Next in Thread] |