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Updated: June 17, 2025
We’ll probably hear to-morrow what it’s all about.” But in the morning there was little more to be learned about the new-comer’s history and antecedents. Dr Congleton spoke of the matter to the two young men, with the pompous cough that signified extreme discretion. “Brought by an old friend of mine,” he said. “A curious story, Escott, but quite intelligible.
"He'll have to do without them; if he wants peaches, he had better bring some down from Covent Garden." A knock was heard at the door. "Please Miss, Mr. Escott is in the drawing-room." "Tell him I will be downstairs in a moment," cried Maggie. "Now off you go, my Lady Mount Rorke," said Sally, who had already begun to regret her promises, and to consider if she had not better break them.
I hardly think so, Sherlaw, I hardly think so. Case of reaction entirely. Good morning.” “Congleton seems satisfied,” remarked Escott. “I’ll tell you what,” said the junior, profoundly. “Old Congers is a very good chap, and all that, but he’s not what I should call extra sharp. I should feel uncommon suspicious.” “H’m,” replied Escott. “As you say, our worthy chief is not extra sharp.
“Five hondred vild boars,” he was saying, “eight hondred brace of partridges, many bears, and rabbits so moch zat it took five veeks to bury zem. All zese ve did shoot before breakfast, colonel. Aftair breakfast again ve did go out——” But at that moment his attention was sharply arrested by a question of Lady Brierley’s. “Has Dr Escott arrived?” she asked.
At Monsieur's left, and facing me, sat Colonel Escott, very red and cheerful; then a young man who called the Colonel Cornel, and came from Dublin, proclaiming himself a barr'ster, and giving his name as Flarty, though on his card it was written Flaherty; and then Sir Richard Maistre.
Why, say, I'm going to have Kenneth Escott put a piece in the paper saying that the swellest dressed woman in the U. S. is Mrs. E. Louetta Swanson." "Now, you stop teasing me!" But she beamed. "Let's dance a little. George, you've got to dance with me." Even as he protested, "Oh, you know what a rotten dancer I am!" he was lumbering to his feet. "I'll teach you. I can teach anybody."
Fletcher asked Escott, in a hesitating and conciliatory manner. "I am afraid he will not be able to tell you; he hasn't ceased talking since we came into the theatre." "I should have done the same had I been in his place." Lady Seveley smiled, Frank thought the words presumptuous. "Who the devil would care to hear you talk and that filthy accent." And at that moment he remembered Lizzie Baker.
Escott will stay and take pot-luck with us, he will no doubt hear everything there is to hear in the course of the evening." "What have we got for dinner, Ethel? I know we have got a leg of mutton, and there is some curry." "Your dinners are always excellent, Mrs. Horlock. I shall be delighted to stay. Here is Sally. Oh, how do you do, Sally? We were talking of you."
Ahead of him there was a rending crack, and Dr Escott and his chair disappeared. Mr Beveridge laughed cheerfully, and taking from under his coat a board with the legend “Danger” printed in large characters across its face, he placed it beside the jagged hole.
Yes, oh yes. And so, in fact, it pleases me to be able to say that though personally I might prefer the sterner Presbyterianism of an earlier era " Babbitt finally gathered that Eathorne was willing. Chum Frink suggested as part-time press-agent one Kenneth Escott, reporter on the Advocate-Times. They parted on a high plane of amity and Christian helpfulness.
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