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Updated: May 11, 2025
Quorn looked about him for a convenient spot, selected the fireplace, spat again, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and winked with a slow deliberation. "What's yourn?" he asked. The count smiled and shook his head. "Wal," said Mr. Quorn, "I'll tell you what I'll do with you. I'll letter it with you. "O," said the count, still smiling. "U," said Mr. Quorn. "I," said the count.
In the sacred cause of freedom, gentlemen, I'm willing to sacrifice even a pecuniary consideration. I could do a trade with Austria that would increase my profits by fifty per cent. But I'm all for freedom, and you get first offer." "What is your news from the Continent, Mr. Quorn?" inquired the count. Mr.
Sponge could learn, to carry out the design. Indeed, the subject of hunting was never once mentioned, the conversation after dinner, instead of being about the Quorn, or the Pytchley, or Jack Thompson with the Atherstone, turning upon the elegance and lighting of the Casinos in the Adelaide Gallery and Windmill Street, and the relative merits of those establishments over the Casino de Venise in High Holborn.
If a lady is well off, and intends to hunt regularly, she would probably not give less than £25; but the Quorn and some other fashionable hunts lay down no hard and fast rule concerning the amount to be subscribed, which varies according to individual circumstances. The minimum subscription to the Pytchley is £25 for a man and £10 for a lady.
Quorn," he said, "more than a week ago, that if it were finally decided to purchase the arms he had for sale I would travel with him to Italy on board of his own ship, and would myself undertake the responsibility of effecting a landing.
"Go away, you crazy loon!" cried Aunt Dahlia, in that ringing voice of hers which had once caused nervous members of the Quorn to lose stirrups and take tosses from the saddle. Gussie's reply was to waggle his eyebrows. I could read the message he was trying to convey.
"Never noticed any signs of nerves about you, old thing," laughed Tony, as he proffered his case and struck a match to light the cigarette Myra accepted. "Nerves! The risks you have been taking of late in the hunting field have made my blood run cold. The way you took that hedge last week during the run with the Quorn made my heart stand still.
What that forty thousand pounds is for, he says, 'is thoroughly well beknown to all of you. There's Colonel Quorn, he says Did you ever 'ear of Colonel Quorn, sir?" "Yes, yes!" I answered. "Go on with your story." "'There's Colonel Quorn, 'e says, 'lying off Civita Vecchia with the count on board 'is ship with the arms and ammunition. Now I'm a-coming to it, sir; don't you stop me.
And he was lying low upstairs, it was said, with one of Ikey's Own at his bedside, and another over his door, to see that no harm befell him before the great day dawned. America might not like the great jockey, but she meant him to ride her mare to victory. Lord Milburn, a somewhat ponderous gentleman, well-known with the Quorn, a representative Imperialist statesman, was at his best.
"By the way, this feller Gastrell who's taken my house tells me he's fond of huntin'," the first speaker whom I knew to be Lord Easterton, a man said to have spent three small fortunes in trying to make a big one remarked. "Said somethin' about huntin' with the Belvoir or the Quorn. Shouldn't be surprised if he got put up for this club later." "Should you propose him if he asked you?"
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