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You do not know me, Paul. I must have rank, position. What am I? The daughter of rich old Hasluck, who began life as a butcher in the Mile End Road. As the Princess Huescar, society will forget, as Mrs." it seemed to me she checked herself abruptly "Jones or Brown it would remember, however rich I might be. I am vain, Paul, caring for power ambition. I have my father's blood in me.
In the City, old Hasluck had a bad reputation and deserved it; in Stoke-Newington then a green suburb, containing many fine old houses, standing in great wooded gardens he was loved and respected.
Now, in Guilford Street people will come to me." "It should certainly be a pleasanter neighbourhood to live in," agreed my mother. "Later on," said my father, "in case I want the whole house for offices, we could live ourselves in Regent's Park. It is quite near to the Park." "Of course you have consulted Mr. Hasluck?" asked my mother, who of the two was by far the more practical.
"What does she think of it, eh?" "I think she'll be with us," answered my father. "Nothing like food for bringing people together," said Hasluck. "Good-night." The door closed, but Something had crept into the house. It stood between my father and mother. It followed them silently up the narrow creaking stairs. Better is little, than treasure and trouble therewith.
Hasluck had changed places with my mother, and having after many experiments learned the correct pitch for conversation with old Teidelmann, talked with him as much aside as the circumstances of the case would permit. Hasluck never wasted time on anything else than business.
A boy, in all probability, would have squandered the money, let the name sink back again into the gutter. And even had he been the other sort, he could only have been another business man, keeping where I had left him. You will call your first boy Hasluck, won't you? It must always be the first-born's name. It shall be famous in the world yet, and for something else than mere money."
"I say it reminds me of cocoanuts." He screamed it this time. "Oh, does it?" was the reply. "Doesn't it you?" "Can't say it does," answered Teidelmann. "As a matter of fact, don't know much about it myself. Never use it." Old Teidelmann went on with his dinner, but Hasluck was still full of the subject. "Take my advice," he shouted, "and buy a bottle." "Buy a what?"
Delighted to hear it," grunted the old gentleman, evidently bored. "Nothing like it for a sick-room," persisted Hasluck; "might almost call it a scent." "Makes one quite anxious to be ill," remarked my aunt, addressing no one in particular. "Reminds me of cocoanuts," continued Hasluck. Its proprietor appeared not to hear, but Hasluck was determined his flattery should not be lost.
Old Hasluck knew how to advertise, and spared neither expense nor labour, with the result that it was the event of the season, at least according to the Society papers. Mrs.
Barbara had gone abroad to put the finishing touches to her education to learn the tricks of the Nobs' trade, as old Hasluck phrased it; and I had left school and taken employment with Mr. Stillwood, without salary, the idea being that I should study for the law. "You are in luck's way, my boy, in luck's way," old Mr. Gadley had assured me.
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