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Updated: May 7, 2025
And a mighty yellow-jaundiced little office Mr Fips had of it; with a great, black, sprawling splash upon the floor in one corner, as if some old clerk had cut his throat there, years ago, and had let out ink instead of blood. 'I have brought my friend Mr Pinch, sir, said John Westlock. 'Be pleased to sit, said Mr Fips.
"When it comes to walking upon eggshells and telling fips, the womens have nothing to learn from the mens. Will you take a little stroll-walk with me in the garden? I have one odder thing to say to you: and I am hungry and thirsty both togedder for This." He produced "This," in the form of his pipe. We left the room at once for our stroll in the garden.
"What do you mean?" exclaimed I, adopting the familiar phraseology of my acquaintances: "Attwood off? has he cut his stick?" "Not bad," said the feeling and elegant Fips "not such a bad guess, my boy; but he has not exactly CUT HIS STICK." "What then?" "WHY, HIS THROAT." The man's mouth was full of bleeding beef as he uttered this gentlemanly witticism.
Tom himself was tickled; no less by the hilarity of his friend than by the recollection of the sudden manner in which he had been brought to a stop, in the very height of his urbane conference with Mr Fips; so by degrees Tom burst out laughing too; and each making the other laugh more, they fairly roared.
It occurred to John as a very bright thought to make inquiry at the steward's office, to whom the chambers belonged, or by whom they were held; but he came back no wiser than he went, the answer being, 'Mr Fips, of Austin Friars. 'After all, Tom, I begin to think it lies no deeper than this.
'You want too much profit, she returned; 'I saw just such a bunch of fish in market yesterday for three fips. 'Yes, but remember, I replied, 'that here are the fish at your door. You neither have to send for them nor to bring them home yourself. 'Oh, as to that, she answered, 'I have a waiter whose business it is to carry the marketing. It is all the same to me.
While thus occupied with thoughts of our painfully delayed departure, we also discussed the difficulty of transporting our little dog Fips by rail. One day, the 22nd of June, my wife returned from a walk, bringing the animal back with her, in some mysterious way dangerously ill. According to Minna's account, we could only think that the dog had swallowed some virulent poison spread in the street.
After a short silence, during which Mr Fips was so perfectly unembarrassed as to render it manifest that he could have broken it sooner without hesitation, if he had felt inclined to do so, he asked if Mr Westlock had made his offer fully known to Mr Pinch. John answered in the affirmative. 'And you think it worth your while, sir, do you? Mr Fips inquired of Tom.
So, if you expect to sell me your things, you must do it at the market prices. I will give you three fips for that bunch of fish, and no more. I had walked a great deal, and sold but little. I was tired, and half sick with a dreadful headache. It was time for me to think about getting home.
I wish I could soon have the pleasure of seeing you CHEZ NOUS. "Tannhauser", with ballet, and a contest of translators as well as of minstrels, are immediately before you. It will be a tough piece of work for you, and I advise as many walks and cooling baths as possible. Fips should teach you a little philosophic patience during the rehearsals.
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