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Updated: June 14, 2025
"Darned pretty girl, that!" he went on meditatively. "Where did you get her?" "She ah came into the office, when you were out. She struck me as being essentially the type we required for our ensemble, so I er engaged her. She " Mr Pilkington gulped. "She is a charming, refined girl!"
"Of course," said Freddie thoughtfully, "the catch in the whole dashed business is that she's such a bally independent sort of girl. I mean to say, it's quite possible she may hand Derek the mitten, you know." "In that case, let us hope that she will look more favorably on young Pilkington." "Yes," said Freddie. "Well, yes. But well, I wouldn't call the Pilker a very ripe sporting proposition.
But when it comes to giving ten thousand dollars just to have it paid back to me in exchange for a very valuable piece, of theatrical property . . . my own money . . . handed back to me . . . !" Words failed Mr Pilkington. "I've been deliberately swindled!" he added after a moment, harking back to the main motive. Jill's heart was like lead.
He had just parted from Jill, who had been rather plain-spoken with regard to the recent financial operations: and, though possessed only of a rudimentary conscience, Uncle Chris was aware that his next interview with young Mr Pilkington might have certain aspects bordering on awkwardness and he would have liked time to prepare a statement for the defence.
"The older I get, Aggie Pilkington," she said, "the more I realize that to take you anywhere means ruin. We are done now. All our labor is for nothing. There will be no holdup, no nothing. They are scared off." But Aggie was still angry. "Just let some one take you for a lousy Bedouin, Tish," she said, "and see what you would do. I'm not sorry anyhow. I never did like the idea."
"I don't know how you feel, young 'un, but there's a voice that tells me I shall dine." Mr. Pilkington was not deceived by that prophetic voice. He dined with appetite undiminished by his companion's gloom. From time to time he rallied him on his coyness under the fascinations of beef-steak, lager beer, apricots and Devonshire cream.
The matter of the ten thousand dollars seemed trivial to him in comparison with the weightier problems which occupied his mind. "Have you seen Miss Mariner?" he asked eagerly. "Yes. I have just parted from her. She was upset, poor girl, of course, exceedingly upset." Mr Pilkington moaned hollowly. "Is she very angry with me?"
"Yes, you have," said Wally. "There's nothing more to talk about," repeated Jill. "I'm sorry this should have happened, but you've nothing to complain about now, have you? Good night." And she turned quickly away, and walked towards the door. "But I hadn't finished!" wailed Mr Pilkington, clutching at Wally. He was feeling profoundly aggrieved.
If I want to keep any of the books, I can buy them from Mr. Rickman." She turned to Rickman in the doorway. "All the same, it was kind of you to think of it." She said it very distinctly, so that Mr. Pilkington could hear. Rickman followed her out of the room and closed the door behind them. She turned on him eyes positively luminous with trust.
"Well?" Rickman's hand closed fiercely over the top of a soda-water syphon. Pilkington followed the movement with an innocent, but by no means unobservant eye. Only the other day they had been rivals for the favour of Miss Poppy Grace, which seemed to be very evenly divided between them. If Rickman had her heart, he Pilkington held her by the power of the purse.
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