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"And you did n't even find the little daisy what-you-may-call-'ems the originals, I mean?" She meant the crazy designs on the cipher. "I did not." Genevieve laughed. "Wait till I get back. I mean to have a try at our cryptograph. "They 're there, all right. I 'm sure you 're welcome to try if you 'll let me assist in the search." She wrinkled her nose and sniffed. "Hmf!
Sir Charles was not so sure of that, but he cheerfully responded, "Certainly. He is not the man for her at all, and you are. He knows it, too." "Hmf!" muttered Erskine, rising dejectedly. "Let's go upstairs." "By-the-bye, we are to call on him to-morrow, to go through his house, and his collection of photographs. Photographs! Ha, ha! Damn his house!" said Erskine.
"I might have waited years if it hadn't been for them." He nodded to the frantic Grummit and turned away; Mr. Grummit, without any adieu at all, turned and crept back to the house. "GRATITOODE!" said the night-watchman, with a hard laugh. "Hmf! Don't talk to me about gratitoode; I've seen too much of it.
The two girls embraced warmly. "You can't you can't possibly be as glad as I am, Penny mine," returned Nan. "Hmf!" wrinkling up her nose. "How nice London smells!" Penelope burst out laughing. Nan nodded at her seriously. "I mean it. You've no idea how good that smoky, petrolly smell is after the innocuous breezes of the country.
But what do you know about such things?" "More than you think, perhaps. These are dangerous ideas to take with you into English society." "Hmf!" growled Cashel. "They'd be more dangerous if I could give every man that is robbed of half what he earns twelve lessons in science." "So you can. Publish your lessons.
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