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Updated: May 21, 2025
Dunstan was ever more precise. She glanced at her companion: a clean-looking, well-groomed, well-dressed youth. Suddenly it occurred to Miss Appleyard that she and Grindley junior were holding each other's hand. Miss Appleyard was justly indignant. "How dare you!" said Miss Appleyard. "I am exceedingly angry with you. How dare you!" The olive skin was scarlet. There were tears in the hazel eyes.
"Let me see," said Solomon Appleyard, "did you tell me his name, or didn't you?" "Nathaniel," said Miss Appleyard. "Didn't I mention it?" "Don't happen to know his surname, do you," inquired her father. "Grindley," explained Miss Appleyard "the son of Grindley, the Sauce man." Miss Appleyard experienced one of the surprises of her life.
Were not his school books full of caricatures of the masters? While his tutor was lecturing him, did he not draw Grindley instinctively under his very nose? A painter Clive was determined to be, and nothing else; and Clive, being then some sixteen years of age, began to study art under the eminent Mr. Gandish of Soho.
Postwhistle, of a bulk not to be moved quickly, had, after mature consideration, conquering a natural disinclination to change, decided to seek assistance. Young Grindley, alighting from a four-wheeled cab in Fetter Lane, marched up the court, followed by a weak-kneed wastrel staggering under the weight of a small box. In the doorway of the little shop, young Grindley paused and raised his hat.
That horrid Grindley, the dentist, will keep me in town another week." To the latter part of her ladyship's speech Arthur gave no ear. He was thinking for whom could Foker be purchasing those trinkets which he was carrying away from the jeweler's. Why did Harry seem anxious to avoid him?
"Last year he seemed to walk in just when he liked, as though he were one of us." "He's a bad sort of fellow," said Grindley; "he's so uncommonly dark. I don't know where on earth he gets his money from, He was heir to some small property in the north, but he lost every shilling of that when he was in the wine trade."
"To him, Gaylass!" Then up they went the other side of the ravine, and saw the body of the hounds almost a field before them at the top. "I say, that took some of the wind out of a fellow," said Pollock. "You mustn't mind about wind now," said Burgo, dashing on. "Wasn't the pace awful, coming up to that farmhouse?" said Calder Jones, looking round to see if Grindley was shaken off.
Grindley junior continued his attentions, the lady indicating by signs the various points at which she was most susceptible. "Pretty picture they make together, eh?" suggested Hezekiah in a whisper to his friend. "Never saw her take to anyone like that before," returned Solomon, likewise in a whisper. A neighbouring church clock chimed twelve.
I never hold a card in dummy's hand. Yes, I know; that's seven points on each side. Vavasor, come and cut. Upon my word if any one had asked me, I should have said you were dead." "But you see, nobody ever does think of asking you anything." "What you probably mean," said Grindley, "is that Vavasor was not returned for Chelsea last February; but you've seen him since that.
"Who's been with you?" said he. "There've been Tom and I; and Calder Jones was there for a while. I think he killed himself somewhere. And there was Pollock, and your friend Grindley, and a chap whose name I don't know who dropped out of heaven about half-way in the run; and there was another man whose back I saw just now; there he is, by heavens, it's Vavasor! I didn't know he was here."
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