Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 21, 2025
Rodney. "Oh, yes, I know," drawled Mr. Odell-Carney. "You American architects are doing great things, 'pon my soul," he added luminously. Brock stuck his eyeglass in tighter and hemmed with raucous precision. Mrs. Medcroft stiffened perceptibly. "Oh, but he's Mr. Roxbury Medcroft, the great English architect," cried Mrs. Rodney, in some little confusion. Odell-Carney suddenly remembered.
That's no small detail, you know, even though it escaped for the moment." "Three weeks." "Three weeks?" He almost reeled. "That's a long time in these days of speedy divorces," said Medcroft blandly. The Gare de l'Est was thronged with people when Brock appeared, fully half an hour before departing time.
As if precociously providing for an ultimate alibi, the fickle Tootles began to show unmistakable signs of aversion for her temporary parent. Mrs. Rodney, being an old-fashioned mother, could not reconcile herself to this unfilial attitude, and gravely confided to her husband that she feared Medcroft was mistreating his child behind their backs. "Well, the poodle likes him, anyway," protested Mr.
"Haw, haw!" laughed Brock, without grace or reason. Miss Fowler caught her breath sharply. "Fellow named Brock. Stupid sort of chap, my mother says. "Oh, dear me, Mr. Ulstervelt," cried Edith, breaking in, "you shan't say anything mean about Mr. Brock. He's my husband's best friend." "I didn't say it, Mrs. Medcroft. It was my mother." Brock was hiding a smile behind his hand.
And so it was settled that he was to sleep in the small balcony just off the baby's luxurious room, the hotel people agreeing to place a cot there at night in order to oblige the unfortunate guest with the affected lung. "You are so dear and so agreeable, Roxbury," purred Mrs. Medcroft, very much relieved. "If ever I hear of a girl looking for a nice husband, I'll recommend you."
Two eager, beautiful young women were hanging to his elbows as he ruthlessly broke one of the seals. "The chump! It's from Rox! They're all from Rox and they are two or three days old!" Just then the unexpected happened. The office door opened with a bang, and the real Roxbury Medcroft stepped into the room. He halted just inside the door and looked about in momentary bewilderment.
"It's all off with her," ruminated Freddie, shivering slightly as an after effect of the icy stare she had given him. "She's got it in for me, for some reason or other. Wow! That was a frost! I feel it yet. Medcroft has played the deuce helping me. I wonder if Hello! There's Katherine."
Medcroft smiled softly to herself as she turned her face away. A few minutes later she seized the opportunity to whisper in his ear. Her eyes were sparkling, and something in her manner bespoke the bated breath. "You are in love with my sister," was what she said to him. He blushed convincingly. "Nonsense!" he managed to reply, but without much persuasiveness. "But you are. I'm not blind.
You are well known here. The the others are not. They are what you call it? Humbugs! It may be that they also have swindled you!" Mr. Rodney, at this point, leaped to his feet and rushed over to shake his fist in the face of the insulting hotel man. But Edith Medcroft arose suddenly, like a tragedy queen, and spoke, her clear, determined voice stilling the turbulent spirit of her outraged host.
Brock waved the garde aside. "It's all right," he explained. "I shan't occupy the I mean, I'll take one of the other compartments." As the garde opened his lips to protest, she drew Brock inside the compartment and closed the door. Mrs. Medcroft was agitated. "Oh, what a wretched contretemps!" she cried in despair. "Roxy has made a frightful mess of it, after all.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking