United States or Zimbabwe ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
I've nothing I can give you just now," said the captain angrily. Ratman put down his pen, and whistled a stave, drubbing his fingers on the table. Then he took the pen again. "A hundred, eh?" he repeated. The captain ground his teeth in impotent fury. "No. Fifty." "Thanks very much. I'll make it seventy-five, if you don't mind."
Which branch of the family tree do you hang on to?" "Your sister had a son, Roger Ingleton. That's my name." "Is that so? And you're the present Squire of Maxfield? Well, well. When did you come to life again?" "There was a false report of my death," said Ratman, glancing a little nervously at the tutor, who was diligently removing the mud from his riding-boots. "Wal, it's singular.
Somehow this genial interruption robbed Mr Ratman of his ideas, and stopped the flow of his discourse, much to the relief of the remainder of the party. "Well?" said Mr Armstrong, when he and his ward met afterwards in the room of the latter, "how do you like our new visitor?" "So badly that I am thankful for once that Rosalind has gone." Mr Armstrong looked hard at his ward for a moment.
"Then I hope no one will speak to me, because I don't want to talk." Mr Ratman made an effort to turn the incident off with a laugh, and addressed his further remarks to his host.
"What is his name?" "Mr Ratman; he hurt me awfully once." The duke, feeling that Miss Oliphant's party was taking rather a serious turn, walked across the room to where Mr Ratman was already engaged in an uncomfortable colloquy with Dr Brandram. "What are you doing here?" the doctor had asked. "That's my business," said Mr Ratman. "For the matter of that, what are you doing here?"
She kept a rigid silence, and went through the steps of the quadrille without so much as a look at the talker, Ratman was sober enough to be annoyed at this chilly disdain. "Don't you know it's rude not to speak when you're spoken to, Miss Rosalind?" said he. "If you choose to be friends with me we shall get on very well, but you mustn't be rude." She turned her head away.
I may as well stay here." The precaution, however, was unnecessary. Mr Ratman had vanished. He did not call on Mr Pottinger next morning, nor was he to be found at the hotel. He had returned by the early morning train to London. Mr Fastnet's lodgings were a good deal less imposing than Roger, who had hitherto only met the owner at the club, had pictured to himself.
It is no use asking you, I fear, what became of you after a certain riot in Boulogne when you, as the Ghost in `Hamlet, and your fellow-tragedians were mobbed for not paying the rent of your hall?" Mr Ratman, who during this cross-examination had passed through all the stages from blustering rage to abject discomfiture, sank back on his chair and turned a livid face to his questioner.
"No, but they may require the assistance of Robert Ratman to keep them from being ashamed of their own father, Mr Armstrong." The tutor glared through his glass. He understood this threat. "What of that?" said he.
She stooped, with face as white as marble, and touched his forehead with her cold lips. "Loyal girl," said the father, when the door had closed behind her; "she will stand by me yet. After all, Ratman has his good points clever, cheerful, good man of business " Here abruptly the soliloquy ended, and Captain Oliphant buried his face in his hands, a miserable man.
Word Of The Day