welltailored man must, trying to make the gap wider between them by
innuendo and give more of a genuine filip to acts of impropriety between
the two, she unbuttoned his and then he untied her, mind the pin, whereas
savages in the cannibal islands, say, at ninety degrees in the shade not
caring a continental. However, reverting to the original, there were on the
other hand others who had forced their way to the top from the lowest rung
by the aid of their bootstraps. Sheer force of natural genius, that. With brains,
sir.
For which and further reasons he felt it was interest and duty even to wait on and profit by the unlookedfor occasion, though why, he could not exactly tell, being, as it was, already several shillings to the bad, having, in fact, let himself in for it. Still, to cultivate the acquaintance of someone of no uncommon calibre who could provide food for reflection would amply repay any small... Intellectual stimulation as such was, he felt, from time to time a firstrate tonic for the mind. Added to which was the coincidence of meeting, discussion, dance, row, old salt, of the here today and gone tomorrow type, night loafers, the whole galaxy of events, all went to make up a miniature cameo of the world we live in, especially as the lives of the submerged tenth, viz., coalminers, divers, scavengers, etc., were very much under the microscope lately. To improve the shining hour he wondered whether he might meet with anything approaching the same luck as Mr Philip Beaufoy if taken down in writing. Suppose he were to pen something out of the common groove (as he fully intended doing) at the rate of one guinea per column, My Experiences, let us say, in a Cabman’s Shelter.
The pink edition, extra sporting, of the Telegraph, tell a graphic lie, lay, as luck would have it, beside his elbow and as he was just puzzling again, far from satisfied, over a country belonging to him and the preceding rebus the vessel came from Bridgwater and the postcard was addressed to A. Boudin, find the captain’s age, his eyes went aimlessly over the respective captions which came under his special province, the allembracing give us this day our daily press. First he got a bit of a start but it turned out to be only something about somebody named H. du Boyes, agent for typewriters or something like that. Great battle Tokio. Lovemaking in Irish £ 200 damages. Gordon Bennett. Emigration swindle. Letter from His Grace William +. Ascot Throwaway recalls Derby of ’92 when Captain Marshall’s dark horse, Sir Hugo, captured the blue ribband at long odds. New-York disaster, thousand lives lost. Foot and Mouth. Funeral of the late Mr Patrick Dignam.
