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Updated: May 15, 2025
And presently he found himself pocketed before one of the exhibits of feminine interest, momentarily helpless, listening to the admiring and envious chorus of a bevy of diminutive shop-girls on the merits of a Paris gown. It was at this moment that he perceived, pushing towards him with an air of rescue, the figure of his vestryman, Mr. Wallis Plimpton.
On rare occasions, when in town, the financier dined out, limiting himself to a few houses. Once in a long while he attended what are known as banquets, such as those given by the Chamber of Commerce, though he generally refused to speak. Hodder, through Mr. Parr's intervention, had gone to one of these, ably and breezily presided over by the versatile Mr. Plimpton.
"So did Eldon Parr," remarked another man, amidst a climax of laughter. "Langmaid handled that pretty well." Hodder felt Everett Constable fidget. "Bedloe's all right, but he's a dreamer," Mr. Plimpton volunteered. "Then I wish he'd stop dreaming," said Mr. Ferguson, and there was more laughter, although he had spoken savagely. "That's what he is, a dreamer," Varnum ejaculated.
I know it will be late in the season, but don't you think you could take us, Alison? And I intend to give you a dinner. I'll write you a note. Here's Wallis." "Well, well, well," said Mr. Plimpton, shaking Alison's hand. "Where's father? I hear he's gone to Calvary." Alison made her escape. Inside the silent church, Eleanor Goodrich gave her a smile and a pressure of welcome.
"I am a little ashamed of my motive," he confessed. "There were rumours I don't pretend to know how they got about " he hesitated, once more aware of delicate ground. "Wallis Plimpton said something to a man who told me. I believe I went out of sheer curiosity to hear what Hodder would have to say. And then, I had been reading, wondering whether there were anything in Christianity, after all."
Asa Waring and Phil Goodrich smiled as Wallis Plimpton, after a moment's hush, scrambled to his feet, his face pale, his customary easiness and nonchalance now the result of an obvious effort. He, too, tried to smile, but swallowed instead as he remembered his property in Dalton Street.... Nelson Langmaid smiled, in spite of himself... Mr.
They evidently regarded his growing intimacy with the banker with approval, as in some sort a supreme qualification for a rector of St. John's, and a proof of unusual abilities. There could be no question, for instance, that he had advanced perceptibly in the estimation of the wife of another of his vestrymen, Mrs. Wallis Plimpton.
On rare occasions, when in town, the financier dined out, limiting himself to a few houses. Once in a long while he attended what are known as banquets, such as those given by the Chamber of Commerce, though he generally refused to speak. Hodder, through Mr. Parr's intervention, had gone to one of these, ably and breezily presided over by the versatile Mr. Plimpton.
Plimpton, before whose pertinacity the walls of Jericho had fallen; and finally the queer, twisted Richardson mansion of the Everett Constables, whither he was bound, with its recessed doorway and tiny windows peeping out from under mediaeval penthouses.
"And now, with his Municipal League, he's going to clean up the city, is he? Put in a reform mayor. Show up what he calls the Consolidated Tractions Company scandal. Pooh!" "You got out all right, Varnum. You won't be locked up," said Mr. Plimpton, banteringly. "So did you," retorted Varnum. "So did Ferguson, so did Constable."
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