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Updated: June 15, 2025
Yes, I know that you are in urgent need of money not by-and-by, but now. To-day I was unable to procure it, nor can I promise it to-morrow; but on the day after to-morrow, Saturday, I shall certainly have it ready for you." The marquis seemed to be trying to read his agent's very soul. "Are you in earnest?" he asked. "Show your hand. If you don't intend to help me out of my embarrassment, say so."
"I might inquire with equal reason why I should have to be Schultz," retorted Fritzing. "But why Neumann?" persisted Priscilla, greatly upset. "Ma'am, why not?" said Fritzing, still more upset. Then he added, "Your Grand Ducal Highness might have known that at the agent's I would be obliged to give some name."
He threw the soapsuds skilfully over a wretched little yellow cur he had, then turning his face to the agent's house, he shouted from the distance, "All the men gone last night!" They heard him plainly, but in their surprise they both yelled out together: "What!" Then they stared at one another. "We are in a proper fix now," growled Carlier. "It's incredible!" muttered Kayerts.
But see what a life they lead. It isn't a pleasant thing to be afraid of coming into your agent's office; not what you would like, Mr Vavasor; not if I know you." "I never was afraid of meeting anyone yet," said Vavasor; "but I don't know what I may come to." "Nor never will, I'll go bail. But, Lord love you, I could tell you such tales!
Another round of applause had broken out, directed perceptibly to some apology, some solemn circumlocution, of Selah Tarrant's; this covered the sound of the agent's voice, as well as that of a confused and divided response, proceeding from the parlour. For a minute nothing definite was audible; the door remained closed, and Matthias Pardon reappeared in the vestibule.
A Hollywood agent on a fishing trip strikes up a conversation with Kermit-the-Frog. The agent is impressed with him and suggests that he move west, to Hollywood. Though seemingly content in his East Coast swamp, Kermit is taken by the agent's prediction that, as a movie star, he could make millions of people happy. "Make millions of people happy," echoes the starry-eyed muppet.
So he turned and walked slowly to his temporary headquarters in the station agent's office, but to find that the young captain left in command by Colonel Wray had made himself at home and was issuing orders to a snub-nosed lieutenant. Porter took a chair and looked out of the window. For a moment he was too weary to be aggressive.
He had sent his copy in to the Record, and each morning, immediately after breakfast, he strolled down to the little news agent's shop to buy a copy of the paper Mr. Marlow took no halfpenny journals but when Sunday came round it had not appeared. The Marlows were regular church-goers, at least Mrs. Marlow was, and her husband always accompanied her when he was not away at the seaside, golfing.
A remittance man from Devonshire whose ancestral halls had sheltered an hundred knights danced with Faro Nell, who gambled for a living, while the station agent's attenuated daughter palpitated in the arms of a husky stage-driver. Mr. Percy Parrott, the sprightly cashier of the new bank, swung the new milliner from South Dakota.
He knew before the loyal old man had proceeded half-way what to expect. "It cost me a hundred dollars in entertainment, and a lot of apparent readiness to talk business, to get him confidential with me. Then I got the name of the would-be purchaser, under injunctions of secrecy, because those were the agent's positive instructions. The man who wants to buy is Presby!"
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