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Updated: June 6, 2025
Willy Eddy, who was dreamily imaginative, and read the Sunday papers when his Minna gave him a chance and did not chide him for the waste of money, remembered things he had read about the swagger New York clubs. He smoked away and made-believe he was a clubman, and enjoyed himself artlessly. The sun got farther around and the south window was a sheet of burning radiance.
One takes some dirty, horrible incident or sight of the battle-front and describes it in loathsome detail, and then, by way of contrast, describes some fat and incredibly bloodthirsty woman or middle-aged clubman at home, gloating over the glorious war. I always thought it a great bore, and sentimental at that.
He, Jimmie Dale, millionaire, clubman, whose name for generations in New York had been the family pride, was "wanted" as the Gray Seal for so many "crimes" that he had lost track of them himself but from any one of which, let the identity of the Gray Seal be once solved, there was and could be no escape! What exquisite irony yet full, too, of the most deadly consequences!
Even if he had a fair field his plight would be serious enough. But he guessed that during the long hours of darkness Durand was busy weaving a net of false evidence from which he could scarcely disentangle himself. Unless Bromfield came forward at once as a witness for him, his case would be hopeless and Clay suspected that the clubman would prove only a broken reed as a support.
Yes or no." "I suppose he can." The words came sulkily after a long pause. "You did hire him to destroy Lindsay's reputation." "Lindsay had no business here in New York. He was disturbing Bee's peace of mind. I wanted to get rid of him and send him home." "So you paid a crooked scoundrel who hated him to murder his reputation." "That's not what I call it," defended the clubman.
It is the sort of place I wished to visit." In a corner of the room Aynesworth had recognized a friend and fellow clubman, who was acting at a neighboring theater. He was dining with some young ladies of his company, and beckoned to Aynesworth to come over and join them. He pointed them out to Wingrave. "Would you care to be introduced?" he asked.
Yes; he was a clubman and a society man, the sort that grace social functions and utter inanities with a charm and unction which is indescribable; the sort that talk big, and cry over a toothache; the sort that put more hell into a woman's life by marrying her than can the most graceless libertine that ever browsed in forbidden pastures.
Curtis was a great friend of my husband's. Mr. Dale his name was Augustus; I named Jacky after him; Ernest Augustus. He died three years ago; no, I guess it was two " "Huh?" said Jacky, interested, "You said my paw died " Lily, with that desire to smack her son which every mother knows, cut his puzzled arithmetic short. "Yes. Mr. Dale was a great clubman. In Philadelphia.
That's a good healthy climate an' the hotel cooking's a lot better than it is at Sing Sing." "I can't do it," moaned the clubman. "My God, man, if it ever came out that I'd paid you money to to ruin his reputation, and that I'd run away when I could have saved an innocent man I'd be done for. I'd be kicked out of every club I'm in." "It won't ever come out if you're not here.
I want them to get the story," said the clubman, rising. "I'll see they cover the raid." Bromfield, massaging a glove on to his long fingers, added another word of caution. "Don't slip up on this thing. Lindsay's a long way from being a soft mark." "Don't I know it?" snapped Durand viciously. "There'll be no slip-up this time if you do your part. We'll get him, and we'll get him right."
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