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His solicitors have instructions to accept any reasonable offer. If only I could close in on a small roll, I would buy it myself, for by the time we have finished our improvements, it will be a sound investment for the young speculator. Have you read the Broster Street story? It has hit somebody already. Already some unknown individual is grasping the lemon in his unwilling fingers.
I was thinking over the whole business from soup to nuts, and it struck me that the queerest part of it all is that whoever owns these Broster Street tenements should care a Canadian dime whether we find out who he is or not." "Well, there's the publicity," began John. "Tush!" said Smith. "And possibly bah!
"Oh, Woman, Woman!" he said resignedly. "She says she will send in some more Broster Street stuff, though, which is a comfort. But I'm sorry she's quit. You would have liked her." "Yes?" said John. At this moment there came from the outer office a piercing squeal. It penetrated into the editorial sanctum, losing only a small part of its strength on the way. Smith looked up with patient sadness.
With your very first contribution to the paper you have hit the bull's-eye. You have done the state some service. Friend Parker came as the representative of the owner of those Broster Street houses. He wanted to buy us off. We've got them scared, or he wouldn't have shown his hand with such refreshing candor. Have you any engagements at present?"
He was tired of kneeling by the trap, and there was no likelihood of Sam making another attempt to climb through. He got up and stretched himself. And then he saw that Betty was standing beside him, holding with each hand a small and by Broster Street standards uncannily clean child. The children were scared and whimpering, and she stooped to soothe them.
John wrapped up the lemon carefully, wrote on the note paper the words, "To B. Scobell, Esq., Property Owner, Broster Street, from Prince John of Peaceful Moments, this gift," and enclosed it in the envelope. "Do you see that gentleman at the table by the pillar?" he said. "Give him these. Just say a gentleman sent them." The waiter smiled doubtfully.
It's quite charming and told the butler that I wanted to see Mr Ford on business. I had taken the precaution to find out that he was not there. He is at Droitwich. 'Rheumatism, murmured Mrs Ford. 'He has it sometimes. 'The man told me he was away, and then he seemed to think that I ought to go. I stuck like a limpet. I sent him to fetch Ogden's tutor. His name is Broster Reggie Broster.
Well, as I was saying, Reggie discovered that it was time for lessons, and sent Ogden upstairs. 'By himself? 'By himself! Reggie and I chatted for a while. Mrs Ford's eyes opened, brown and bright and hard. 'Mr Broster is not a proper tutor for my boy, she said coldly. 'I suppose it was wrong of Reggie, said Cynthia. 'But I was wearing this hat. 'Go on.
And that, brought Broster Street back to her mind, and she thought of the children. No, she could not abandon them. She had started the tenement articles, and she would go on with them. But she must do it without ever venturing into the dangerous neighborhood of the office. A squirrel ran up and sat begging for a nut.
I suppose he thinks they aren't necessary in England. Or perhaps he relied on Mr Broster. Poor Reggie! 'It was criminally careless of him. This will be a lesson to him. He will be more careful in future how he leaves Ogden at the mercy of anybody who cares to come along and snap him up. 'Which, incidentally, does not make your chance of getting him away any lighter.
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