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Updated: June 11, 2025
Paris, during an Exhibition Year, seems mysteriously to lose the wonderful climate which a certain British Minister for Foreign Affairs once declared to be the only one that suited every diplomat's constitution!
It was easy to see that a diplomat's hand was needed to accomplish what Smith was sent to accomplish, and Smith could be a diplomat of parts when the need arose; but his instructions from Mr. O'Connor had left him so little latitude that he was obliged to return without securing any positive action of any sort. "They will take the matter up at the next meeting," he reported.
I have always felt sorry for Mr. Willits and tried my best to love him and couldn't that is all. He understands it perfectly; we both do. It was one of the things that couldn't be." All sorts of possibilities surged one after the other through the old diplomat's mind. A dim light increasing in intensity began to shine about him. What it meant he dared not hope.
The journalist is sick with work and fancied importance; the diplomat's hair whitens with the game which he cannot understand; the statesman, if he be wise, is in fear, knowing the meaning of such movements, while, if he be foolish, he chirps optimistically in his speeches and is applauded in the press.
Now if this conduct on the part of the Roman Catholic authorities is quite right at Barcelona and Quebec, why is it "Orange bigotry" to suggest that the same people may act in the same way at Cork or Galway? Again, in 1910, a remarkable volume was published, written by Mrs. Hugh Fraser, the sister of the novelist, Marion Crawford, entitled "A Diplomat's Wife in Many Lands."
Guiscard thought it perfectly justifiable, so long as the King had not rid himself of Augustus, by means of the peace which this Prince appeared more than willing to negotiate, through the mediation of Guiscard himself. But Charles turned a deaf ear to the French diplomat's prayers and remonstrances.
Near the door he stumbled into two of his associates, who were looking out with eyes radiant with admiration. "What a woman? Eh?" "She looks like a foreigner. Some diplomat's wife, I guess!" As he came out of the building he saw her on the sidewalk, about to step into a vehicle.
"I am sorry, but His Excellency is very much engaged. He has requested me to ascertain the nature of your business." "I regret that I may not tell you the nature of my business." Father Murray's reply was instant. "I may speak only to the Minister himself." "Then," answered the secretary, "I regret to say that he cannot receive you. A diplomat's time is not his own. I am in his confidence.
"Anything you would tell would be well worth any diplomat's hearing," said he; "only I shall always prefer to be the diplomat on duty when you are doing the telling!" "That's deliciously nice, Mr. Harleston; I " "Where are you now?" he demanded. "At the Chateau in my apartment. Anything more?" "Nothing; except to pray you to be prudent and not do it again." "I'll promise until I see you."
His decent gray suit, made by Nat Hicks of Gopher Prairie, might have been of sheet iron; it had no distinction of cut, no easy grace like the diplomat's Burberry. His black shoes were blunt and not well polished. His scarf was a stupid brown. He needed a shave. But she forgot her doubt as she realized the ingenuities of the room.
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