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Updated: May 10, 2025
And let her play the part to-morrow night. She'll be delighted, you bet." "But " "Miss Lindop," Edward Henry interrupted, "will you please read to Mr. Marrier what I've dictated?" He turned to Marrier. "It's an interview with myself for one of to-morrow's papers."
Sundry players, of varying stellar degrees, were posed around in the opulent costumes designed by Saracen Givington, A.R.A. Miss Lindop was in the background, ecstatically happy, her cheeks a race-course of tears.
Naturally, London was holding its breath. London will keep calm during moderate crises such as a national strike or the agony of the House of Lords but when the supreme excitation is achieved London knows how to let itself go. "If you please, Mr. Machin " He turned. It was his typewriter, Miss Lindop, a young girl of some thirty-five years, holding a tea-tray.
Humfrey, by a curious coincidence, turned out though I did not know it until many months after to be the brother-in-law of my school-friend William Lindop! Never shall I forget that summer evening near Brandhoek. Roake, effervescing as always with droll wit, and Humfrey, with his natural cheerfulness and affability, made me at home in their little hut at once.
Miss Lindop, with tears in her voice if not in her eyes, obeyed the order and, drawing the paper from the machine, read its contents aloud. Mr. Marrier started back not in the figurative but in the literal sense as he listened. "But you'll never send that out!" he exclaimed. "Why not?" "No paper will print it!" "My dear Marrier," said Edward Henry, "don't be a simpleton.
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