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Updated: June 5, 2025


Carrie and I went round to Gowing's, as arranged, at half-past seven. We knocked and rang several times without getting an answer. At last the latch was drawn and the door opened a little way, the chain still being up. A man in shirt-sleeves put his head through and said: "Who is it? What do you want?" I said: "Mr. Gowing, he is expecting us." Mr. Gowing is not at home."

This is MY door, not Mr. Gowing's. There are people here besides Mr. Gowing." The impertinence of this man was nothing. I scarcely noticed it, it was so trivial in comparison with the scandalous conduct of Gowing. At this moment Cummings and his wife arrived. Cummings was very lame and leaning on a stick; but got up the steps and asked what the matter was. The man said: "Mr.

I walked over to Gowing's and asked him to drop in to supper, and make things pleasant. There was also a decanter of port and some jam puffs on the sideboard. Mrs. James made us play rather a good game of cards, called "Muggings."

It's concerning you both; for doesn't it seem odd that Gowing's always coming and Cummings' always going?" Carrie, who had evidently quite forgotten about the bath, went into fits of laughter, and as for myself, I fairly doubled up in my chair, till it cracked beneath me. I think this was one of the best jokes I have ever made.

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