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Updated: May 5, 2025
And there aloft, clinging to the crumbling stack, that might at any moment part, and fling and crush him into the savage ruin below, stood the figure of a solitary man. And the man was my friend of the Parade, Jack Curtice. I could see and recognise him plainly even the frantic clutch of his hands and the deadly pallor of his face.
Viedler. The Caines, although intimate, were not of the inner circle. This comprised Mr. and Mrs. Curtice, Mr. and Mrs. Todd, Mr. and Mrs. Banford, Mr. and Mrs. Viedler, and ourselves.
He read the label attached to the case of scores: "Claude Heath, passenger to Algiers, via Marseilles." And he could scarcely believe he was really going. As he looked up from the label he saw the post lying on the hall-table. Two letters for him, and ah, some more cuttings from Romeike and Curtice. He was quite accustomed to getting those now.
Even under a blow such as this Mrs Ingleton belied her age by a decade. She was still on the sunny side of forty. You and I might have doubted if she was yet thirty. Captain Curtice and his wife had the true kindness to attempt no words as they sympathisingly bade their visitors farewell.
They gave a dinner in our honor, and those amongst the guests who become prominent in this narrative hereafter were Mr. and Mrs. Albert Caine, Mr. and Mrs. William Curtice, and Mr. and Mrs. George Todd. This dinner was the commencement of a long and intimate friendship with all of those I have named.
It was the same letter that gave rise to the humorous anecdote, so well related by Mr. Curtice in his Biography of Mr. Webster, vol. 2, page 683. We now present this letter to the public to show how worthily one of the last days of Mr. Webster was employed.
It had its humor and I relate it: The Caines and ourselves were in the Moorish room. We had finished our coffee and I had paid the check. While chatting, we were joined by Mr. and Mrs. Curtice, Mr. and Mrs. Todd, and two other friends, making now, with us, a party of ten. Albert, with just a little undue haste, called a waiter and ordered liqueurs for the party.
Here is Charmian!" Charmian came in, flushed with the cold outside, her long eyes sparkling, her hands deep in a huge muff. "Sitting with Madre, Claude!" "I have been telling her we expect her to come to us in spring." "Of course we do. That's settled. I found these cuttings in the hall." She drew one hand out of her muff. It was holding the newspaper slips of Romeike and Curtice.
Greyne's majestic features, made them look Rembrandtesque. Her large, oxlike eyes were fixed and thoughtful. After a pause, she said: "Eustace, I shall have to send you upon a mission." "A mission, Eugenia!" said Mr. Greyne in great surprise. "A mission of the utmost importance, the utmost delicacy." "Has it anything to do with Romeike & Curtice?" "No." "Will it take me far?" "That is my trouble.
With our return to the city we renewed our former intimacy with Mr. and Mrs. Curtice, George Todd and his wife, and a few other friends, though we did not see as much of them as in the old days. They had a large circle of friends and led an active social life, while we were living very quietly, doing practically no entertaining.
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