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Updated: June 18, 2025
Duncombe. "I could not get her away from the stables," she said. "She and Bob would contemplate Dark Hag day and night, I believe." "I wouldn't allow it," said Lady Tyrrell. Mrs. Duncombe shrugged her shoulders and laughed. "That's Mr. Moy's look-out," she said. "You don't choose to interfere with her emancipation," said Lady Tyrrell.
The man imagined he saw a feverish gleam in the applicant's eye. "What hotel did you manage?" he inquired. "It wasn't a hotel," said Hurstwood. "I was manager of Fitzgerald and Moy's place in Chicago for fifteen years." "Is that so?" said the hotel man. "How did you come to get out of that?" The figure of Hurstwood was rather surprising in contrast to the fact. "Well, by foolishness of my own.
Moy's modesty proving to be quite immovable, Sir Patrick ended it by opening the proceedings. "I am here," he said, "to act on behalf of my friend, Mr. Arnold Brinkworth. I beg to present him to you, Mr. Moy as the husband of my niece to whom he was lawfully married on the seventh of September last, at the Church of Saint Margaret, in the parish of Hawley, Kent.
"Wha what's the matter?" said Minnie, drowsily. "Wake up," he said, "and turn over. You're talking in your sleep." A week or so later Drouet strolled into Fitzgerald and Moy's, spruce in dress and manner. "Hello, Charley," said Hurstwood, looking out from his office door. Drouet strolled over and looked in upon the manager at his desk. "When do you go out on the road again?" he inquired.
They would visit a bar like Fitzgerald and Moy's in Chicago, or the Hoffman House, uptown, but he knew that he would never see them down here. Again, the business did not pay as well as he thought. It increased a little, but he found he would have to watch his household expenses, which was humiliating. In the very beginning it was a delight to go home late at night, as he did, and find Carrie.
It was a truly swell saloon, with rich screens, fancy wines, and a line of bar goods unsurpassed in the country. At Rector's, Drouet had met Mr. G. W. Hurstwood, manager of Fitzgerald and Moy's. He had been pointed out as a very successful and well-known man about town.
He's manager of Fitzgerald and Moy's." "What's that?" said Carrie. "The finest resort in town. It's a way-up, swell place." Carrie puzzled a moment. She was wondering what Drouet had told him, what her attitude would be. "That's all right," said Drouet, feeling her thought. "He doesn't know anything. You're Mrs. Drouet now."
They are friends of Moy's, visiting here." Owing to the peculiar nature of his position, such a disclosure as this would ordinarily create no difficulty. His wife took it for granted that his situation called for certain social movements in which she might not be included. But of late he had pleaded office duty on several occasions when his wife asked for his company to any evening entertainment.
He would go around to Fitzgerald and Moy's and get a cigar. It made him feel light of foot as he thought about her. Carrie reached home in high good spirits, which she could scarcely conceal. The possession of the money involved a number of points which perplexed her seriously. He should she buy any clothes when Minnie knew that she had no money?
As the present became darker, the past grew brighter, and all that concerned it stood in relief. He was unconscious of just how much this habit had hold of him until one day he found his lips repeating an old answer he had made to one of his friends. They were in Fitzgerald and Moy's.
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