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Updated: June 28, 2025
It was Tom who virtually picked the once fastidious Joseph Hooper out of the gutter, weeks after the smash, and took him under his puny wing, so to speak, during a somewhat protracted period of regeneration. The broken, shattered man became, for the time being, the Bingle burden, and he was not by any means a light or pleasant one.
Not that she was too poor to make the trip to Peekskill as often as she liked, but her mother and sister made it unnecessary by coming to New York for frequent and sometimes protracted visits at the Bingle apartment, and usually without first inquiring whether it would be convenient or otherwise. She very sensibly realised that Mr.
"I should be the last to say no to any demand of my guests. If it would give you pleasure, sir, to pay for my dinner, I shall not protest. I am the most courteous of hosts. The smallest wish of my guests must be gratified. However, sir, I reserve the right to order the dinner which I am giving. You will not deny me that, I am sure." "By no means," cried Bingle. "Order whatever you like, Rouquin.
Bingle, and it was at once apparent that it was not a mistake to do so. The good lady improved so rapidly that she sent for the expensive Dr. Fiddler, dismissing the cheap Dr. Smith, and by seven o'clock that evening declared that she had never felt better in all of her life. "I suppose you'll fire me now, Mr. Bingle," Melissa had said dejectedly.
Diggs kissed her because he was in love with her. Unfortunately, Mr. Bingle entered the room at the very instant of least resistance, and coughed. "Oh, I I beg your pardon!" exclaimed Mr. Bingle, genuinely distressed. It is worthy of note that it was the good little man who apologised, not Diggs.
I hope you'll get them home safe, sound and intact. They are dears." Mr. Bingle surveyed his brood. Every eye was riveted on the face of the strange, lovely lady, and in each was the look of complete subjugation. "You've hypnotised them," said he, wonderingly. She looked away. After a moment's hesitation, she cast the die urged by the queerest impulse that had ever come over her.
Bingle," said Sigsbee, settling back in his chair and linking his plump hands benevolently across his expansive and somewhat overhanging waistcoat. "That is the best part of the story, sir." Mr. Bingle went home in a taxi-cab, completely done up.
Quite handy for the Elevated, and not far from the river in case one wants to take a sail in pleasant weather. The view from the kitchen windows is capital. You could see East River quite plainly if it were not for the buildings. My idea is to put some plants in the room over there the conservatory, I mean and I expect to get a dog later on. Mrs. Bingle is very fond of dogs.
Now that our dear Miss Fairweather turns out to be er to have been on the stage for some time before she came to us, my interest in the profession is intensified. I really am quite thrilled over knowing a real, flesh and blood actress." "We were a little afraid you wouldn't look at it so generously, Mr. Bingle." "I know.
Here was something that would make a splendid "story," and yet he was fine enough to turn his back upon the opportunity that lay open to him. Mr. Force's hands were gripping the back of a chair so rigidly that the knuckles were white and gleaming. "For a year, did you say, Bingle?" he questioned, steadying his voice with an effort.
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