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Updated: May 20, 2025
Packletide's suggestion that I should write this thing," said Clovis, ignoring the bypaths to fame that Bertie van Tahn was pointing out to him. "You see, Loona Bimberton had a Coronation Ode accepted by the NEW INFANCY, a paper that has been started with the idea of making the NEW AGE seem elderly and hidebound.
Packletide's face settled on an unbecoming shade of greenish white. "You surely wouldn't give me away?" she asked. "I've seen a week-end cottage near Dorking that I should rather like to buy," said Miss Mebbin with seeming irrelevance. "Six hundred and eighty, freehold. Quite a bargain, only I don't happen to have the money."
Packletide's ultimate estrangement from the paths of falsehood. "I hope you don't mind dinner being a quarter of an hour late to-night," said Lady Susan; "Motkin has had an urgent summons to go and see a sick relative this afternoon. He wanted to bicycle there, but I am sending him in the motor." "How very kind of you! Of course we don't mind dinner being put off."
The victim's name was variously reported in the papers as Oppin and Eppelin, but his front name was faithfully rendered Cornelius. "If he was trying German irregular verbs on the poor beast," said Clovis, "he deserved all he got." It was Mrs. Packletide's pleasure and intention that she should shoot a tiger.
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