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Updated: June 4, 2025
I had visited the money-changers near the Charing Cross station and was prepared. Hephzy's eyes opened. "A franc," she repeated. "That's French money, isn't it. Is he a Frenchman?" "Yes," said I. "This is a French boat, I think." She watched the sailor for a moment. Then she sighed. "And he's a Frenchman," she said. "I thought Frenchmen wore mustaches and goatees and were awful polite.
Where "there" might be I had no idea and it was too much trouble to ask, so I drifted off again. Next I was being lifted out of the car; men were lifting me or trying to. And, being wider awake by this time, I protested. "Here! What are you doing?" I asked. "I am all right. Let go of me. Let go, I tell you." Again the voice it sounded less and less like Hephzy's saying: "Don't! Please don't!
We had very little trouble in carrying or leading Little Frank to the cab. The effect of the doctor's powders they must have contained some sort of opiate was to render the girl only partially conscious of what was going on and we got her to and into the vehicle without difficulty. During the drive to Bancroft's she dozed on Hephzy's shoulder.
Our answers, particularly Hephzy's, seemed to please him a great deal. At some of them he laughed uproariously. At last he looked at his watch. "Almost eleven," he observed. "I must be getting around to the office. Miss Cahoon will you excuse Kent and me for an hour or so? I have his letters of credit and the tickets in our safe and he had better come around with me and get them.
She needs quiet and care more than anything else." "Yes, sir. We will do our best to see that she has both. A relative of yours, sir, I think you said." "A a my niece," I answered, on the spur of the moment. She was Hephzy's niece, of course. As a matter of fact, she was scarcely related to me. However, it seemed useless to explain. "I didn't know you had English relatives, Mr. Knowles.
"Jamaica ginger, sugar and hot water," I explained blandly. "It won't hurt you longer than five minutes. It is Hephzy's invariable prescription." "Good Lord! Did you drink yours?" "No I never do, unless she watches me." "But your glass is empty. What did you do with it?" "Emptied it behind the back log. Of course, if you prefer to drink it " "Drink it!"
As a matter of habit also I looked about for a book. I did not have to look far. They filled the shelves to the ceiling on three sides of the study and overflowed in untidy heaps on the floor. They were Hephzy's bugbear, for I refused to permit their being "straightened out" or arranged.
For the matter of that, every cottage we visited, even the smallest, was bowered in flowers. Hephzy's romantic spirit objected strongly to "Leatherhead," but I told her nothing could be more appropriate. "This whole proposition Beg pardon; I didn't mean to use that word; we've heard enough concerning 'propositions' but really, Hephzy, 'Leatherhead' is very appropriate for us.
He trusted we were behaving ourselves in a manner which would reflect credit upon our country. I was to be sure not to let Hephzy marry a title. And so on, for six pages. The letter was almost like a chat with Jim himself, and I read it with chuckles and a pang of homesickness. One of the envelopes bore Hephzy's name and I, of course, did not open it.
She said no, but she was dreadfully upset and I think she did understand, in spite of her sayin' it. What sort of a place is it, this opera-house where she sings?" I dodged the question as best I could. I doubt if Hephzy's suspicions were allayed, but she did not press the subject. Instead she told me I had talked enough for that afternoon and must rest.
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