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"Well, I only came here about a fortnight ago," John humbly replied ... but the poet had moved away and would not listen to him any longer. "I seem to have put my foot in it," John murmured to himself. He made his way to Hinde's side, resolved that he would not budge from it for the rest of the evening.
"No, not much. One or two articles in the Sensation. But you needn't worry about that. I'll look after the money part. Don't you worry!" "Perhaps you could get a regular job on the Evening Herald now that Mr. Hinde's in charge of it," she suggested. Hinde had recently been appointed editor of the Evening Herald. "Oh, no, Eleanor, I don't want a journalist's job.
He enclosed postal orders for two pounds, the fee for one week's performance. John put the letter into his pocket and, nodding to Chilvers, now busily writing up the King and Lord Kitchener, he left the room and went to Hinde's office. "I'm. sorry, Mac," Hinde said to him, "I'm sorry I let out at you just now, but you gave me a fright. I'd have been fired if I'd let your thing go to press!"
There are several Madonnas that I want, and several more that I DON'T want. And I do NOT want any of Nattier's pictures or a "Baby Stuart," but I do want some of Hinde's hair curlers the tortoise-shell kind, I mean and you can only get them in Paris." By this time Patty was shaking with laughter at Marian's list, and she asked her if she didn't want anything else but photographs and hair curlers.
"Goo'-night all!" A few minutes later, Cream tapped on their door and, in response to Hinde's "Come in!" entered. He greeted Hinde lavishly, and then turned to John. "Well, my boy," he said, "what do you think of her? Great, isn't she? Absolute eye-opener, that's what she is, I knew you'd be struck dumb by her. That's the effect she has on people. Paralyses them. Lays 'em out.
He told her of his encounter with Hinde that day and of Hinde's proposal to boom The Enchanted Lover. "I don't like the idea much, but perhaps it'll be useful!" He picked up the cheque from the Cottenham Repertory Theatre. "I'm actually out of pocket over this affair," he said. "What with the cost of typing the play and my expenses in Cottenham...."
Hinde's death and funeral, and of her hopes of seeing her nephew, Ben Hinde, succeed to his father's living. Early in 1874 Mr. Hamerton had the pleasure of becoming personally acquainted with one of the most distinguished of the contributors to the "Portfolio," Mr.
She braided the long strands and fastened their cold mass with extra hairpins. Then she unfastened the Hinde's two tendrils flopped limply against her forehead. She combed them out. They fell in a curtain of streaks to her nose. Feverishly she divided them, draped them somehow back into the rest of her hair and fastened them. "Oh," she breathed, "my ghastly forehead."
"I've brought an article I thought you'd like to print," he said when he had been admitted to Hinde's office. Hinde glanced quickly through it. "Good," he said, "I'll put it in to-morrow. I suppose," he continued, "you wouldn't like to do a job for me?" "What sort of a job?" "There's to be a great ceremony at Westminster Abbey to-morrow ... dedication of a chapel for the Order of the Bath.
"Why don't you put a chartered accountant on his track?" said Hinde when John told him of what Mr. Jannissary had said. John shrugged his shoulders. His experience with the Cottenham Repertory Theatre had cured him of all desire to send good money after bad. He wished now that he had taken Hinde's advice and had kept away from Mr. Jannissary, but it was useless to repine over that.
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