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Updated: June 25, 2025
"Mention of him leads up to what I want to see you about. If I go on the stage and to tell you the truth, I haven't completely made up my mind as yet I shall want a certain amount of comfort at home. A professional man can't be bothered about domestic affairs. He has to keep his mind on his work." "Where does Henry the Eighth come in?" Bulpert takes her arm.
Trew, astonished to the extent of taking off his hat, gave a wave with it in the direction of Platform Number One, and Henry spoke eagerly. Mr. Trew took out his scarlet handkerchief, rubbed his face. "Now," cried Henry, advancing delightedly to meet her, "I wonder what the chances were against our meeting here?" "It is rather unexpected, isn't it?" "Where," he hesitated, "where is Mr. Bulpert?"
And if a floating spar knocked him senseless before he got to the wreck, I don't believe he could take them both in his arms and swim back to the shore." "It says he did in the poetry," contended Bulpert with warmth. "The whole fact of the matter is that you don't in the least know what you're talking about." A sound of voices came from the shop, and Gertie flushed.
Mills that it intended to be a fine evening. The elder lady said it was high time Gertie found a young man to take her out; the girl answered composedly that perhaps Mr. Trew might call and do her this service. "Or Fred Bulpert?" remarked the aunt pointedly. "No," she answered, "not Mr. Bulpert, thank you. Mr. Trew is different." "He isn't the man he was when I first knew him."
Trew made appointments with Bulpert and held secret discussions with him, sheltering his words with a broad, big hand, enjoying greatly the sense of management, and, even more, the atmosphere of conspiracy. Bulpert, on his side, began to realize his importance, and treated Praed Street with a condescension that was meant to represent a correct and proper pride.
I've got a new recitation that she'd very much like to hear. I place a certain value on her criticism." "I'll call her down. And, Mr. Bulpert, I want you to be as nice and pleasant to her as you can. I had to talk rather sharply to her not many days ago; now I'd like to make it up. I'm bound to say she took it very well."
The girl told him the news just communicated by her aunt, and waited hopefully for the comment; Bulpert remarked, with an indulgent air, that it took all sorts to make a world, and he thought no worse of Gertie because of the fact that she possessed a parent with a spotted record.
"And all the drinks I stood," complained Bulpert, "and all the amiable remarks I made, absolutely wasted!" Gertie, apparelled in her finest and best, went at the hour of seven, after Bulpert and her aunt had quarrelled regarding the best and speediest mode of transit, to make her way to King's Road, Chelsea.
Come along and see Mr. Bulpert. A little sweethearting talk will cheer you up." Bulpert admitted he had one or two questions to put; but on Gertie ordering that they should be offered there and then, he said, gloomily, that some other time would do as well.
Bulpert excused himself to Gertie for omitting to invite her to the play, or for other outings, on the grounds that he was saving money; but he sometimes took her along to Paddington Station to see the night expresses start, and twice they went together to a large open place of entertainment in Edgware Road where you could, by dropping a penny in the slot, inspect a series of pictures that proved less exciting than the exhibited title; at the same expense you heard Miss Milly Manton's latest song, and George Limpsey's celebrated triumph in, "I wish I didn't talk so much to Clara!"
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