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Updated: May 17, 2025
I want to see my lady before I explain things to you, you know." "And why? You don't intend to tell her I am to be taken into your confidence, I suppose?" "Not much!" said Mr. Parmalee, emphatically. "Never you mind, Sybilla. Before you become Mrs. P., you'll know it all safe enough. I'll write it at once."
Suddenly Ditty came forward again, and whirled Parmalee around so that he faced the sinking moon. "Mr. Parmalee!" he whispered. The latter smiled faintly. "It's Parmalee, all right," he said. "You didn't expect to see me again, I imagine, Mr. Ditty." The sound of the man's voice seemed to reassure the mate. The other mutineers chattered their surprise.
From the very beginning of "Object, Matrimony" it was apparent that the picture drama would afford him excellent opportunities for studying the Parmalee technique in what an early subtitle called "The Eternal Battle of the Sexes." For Parmalee in the play was Hubert Throckmorton, popular screen idol and surfeited with the attentions of adoring women.
The chagrined amusement of Harold Parmalee, the half-savage, half-humorous tolerance for this perhaps excusable weakness of woman, was here accurately manifested. The actor yawned slightly, lighted another cigarette with flawless Parmalee technique, withdrew a handkerchief from his sleeve-cuff, lightly touched his forehead with it, and began to open the letters.
Well, go ahead with the boys and dope out your hogwash. Gosh! Sometimes I think I wouldn't stay in the business if it wasn't for the money. And remember, don't you let a single solitary sailor on that yacht have a wronged sister that can blame it on the heavy, or you'll never have Parmalee playing the lead." Again Merton Gill debated bringing himself to the notice of these gentlemen.
Jeff, that boy is just full of acting. All you got to do keep his stuff straight, serious. He can't help but be funny that way." "We'll see. To-morrow we'll kind of feel him out. He'll see this Parmalee film to-day I caught it last night and there's some stuff in it I want to play horse with, see? So I'll start him to-morrow in a quiet scene, and find out does he handle.
Very early in the wet and dismal morning, Miss Silver, braving the elements, wended her way to the Blue Bell Inn. Where was Mr. Parmalee? Gone, the landlady said, and gone for good, nobody knew where. Sybilla stood and stared at her incredulously. Gone, and without a word to her gone without seeing the murdered woman! What did it mean? "Are you sure he has really gone?" she asked.
Sir Everard strode straight to the picture-gallery, his face pale, his eyes flashing, his hands clinched. His step rang like steel along the polished oaken floor, and there was an ominous compression of his thin lips that might have warned Mr. Parmalee of the storm to come. But Mr.
He visited Parmalee in his cabin, condoled with him, and offered to be of any possible service. But Parmalee wanted nothing except to be let alone, and, with the consciousness of duty done, Drew left him to his misery and joined the rest at the table. "I'm awfully sorry for poor Mr. Parmalee," remarked Ruth, as she poured Drew's tea. "Poor fellow," chimed in the young man perfunctorily.
Well, I do declare, how nice that is! And hastily pursuing the unhappy woman, who was making for the door, Mrs Parmalee cried eagerly: 'Don't mind us! I know you're busy, but just let me take your hand and then we'll go.
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