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Updated: April 30, 2025
Flack saw everything on a stupendous scale. "There are ten thousand things to do that haven't been done, and I'm going to do them.
He saw it come in powerfully with Mr. Flack, after Miss Dosson had proposed they should walk off without their initiator. Her father didn't favour this suggestion; he said "We want a double good dinner to-day and Mr. Flack has got to order it."
Flack went about a world of marvels dreaming of leg hits. He has been observed, going across the Park on his way to his highly respectable club in Piccadilly, to break from profound musings into a strange brief dance that ended with an imaginary swipe with his umbrella, a roofer, over the trees towards Buckingham Palace. The hit accomplished, Flack resumed his way.
Flack." "Do you mean HIS paper? Oh the horrid ape!" Delia cried with passion. "Do they mind so what they see in the papers?" asked Mr. Dosson. "I guess they haven't seen what I've seen. Why there used to be things about ME " "Well, it IS about us too about every one. They think it's the same as if I wrote it," Francie ruefully mentioned. "Well, you know what you COULD do!" And Mr.
Dosson had not once turned up and the newspaper-man happily appeared to have faded from view. The new aspirant learned in fact from Miss Dosson that a crisis in the history of his journal had recalled Mr. Flack to the seat of that publication.
The last one, the low hurdles for two hundred and twenty yards, was exciting; the runners were all well matched and the handicaps were small. And so, after firing the revolver, Irving started and ran across the field as hard as he could, to be at the finish; he arrived in time, and stood, still holding the revolver in his hand, while Morrill and Flack and Mason raced side by side to the tape.
One afternoon, coming in about three o'clock, Mr. Flack found Francie alone. She had expressed a wish after luncheon for a couple of hours of independence: intending to write to Gaston, and having accidentally missed a post, she had determined her letter should be of double its usual length. Her companions had respected her claim for solitude, Mr.
Did he want to drag them down again to such commonness ah she felt the commonness now! even though it COULD hustle? Did he want to put Mr. Flack forward, with a feeble flourish that didn't answer one of their questions, as a substitute for the alienated Gaston?
Somehow in the start Westby’s foot slipped, and in trying to get clear he lunged against Flack. Irving saw it and instantly fired a second shot, and shouted, “Come back, come back!” The runners heeded the signal and the shout, but as they tiptoed up the track, they looked irritated. “Westby, you fouled Flack.” Irving spoke with some asperity. “I shall have to set you back a yard.”
"If we hadn't known him we shouldn't have known YOU. Remember it was Mr. Flack who brought us that day to Mr. Waterlow's." "Oh you'd have come some other way," said Gaston, who made nothing of that. "Not in the least. We knew nothing about any other way. He helped us in everything he showed us everything. That was why I told him when he asked me. I liked him for what he had done."
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