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Updated: May 7, 2025
Miss Ramsbotham shook her head, "I should just love to fall in love. When I think about it, I feel quite ashamed of myself for not having done so." Whether it was this idea, namely, that it was her duty, or whether it was that passion came to her, unsought, somewhat late in life, and therefore all the stronger, she herself would perhaps have been unable to declare.
"It is bound to leak out sooner or later," Susan Fossett was convinced, "so I may as well tell you: that gaby Mary Ramsbotham has got herself engaged." "Nonsense!" was Peter Hope's involuntary ejaculation. "Precisely what I mean to tell her the very next time I see her," added Susan. "Who to?" demanded Tommy.
I appeal to the recorded opinions of those whom I do not know, and who do not know me, nor care for me, except for the truth that I may have uttered; to Copland, in his "Medical Dictionary," who has spoken of my Essay in phrases to which the pamphlets of American "scribblers" are seldom used from European authorities; to Ramsbotham, whose compendious eulogy is all that self-love could ask; to the "Fifth Annual Report" of the Registrar-General of England, in which the second-hand abstract of my Essay figures largely, and not without favorable comment, in an important appended paper.
I'm going to turn over a new leaf." "All I propose to do " "Whatever it is, you're not going to do it," declared the chief. "Shall be back at half-past twelve, if anybody comes." "It seems to me " But Peter was gone. "Just like them all," wailed the sub-editor. "They can't argue; when you explain things to them, they go out. It does make me so mad!" Miss Ramsbotham laughed.
"He will have to like me thin and in these clothes, just because I am nice, and good company, and helpful. That is the man I am waiting for." He never came along. A charming, bright-eyed, white-haired lady occupies alone a little flat in the Marylebone Road, looks in occasionally at the Writers' Club. She is still Miss Ramsbotham.
"What you want," thought Miss Ramsbotham, "are one or two popular features." "Popular features," agreed Peter guardedly, scenting temptation, "are not to be despised, provided one steers clear of the vulgar and the commonplace." The women, believe me, are going to be of more and more importance to the weekly press." "But why should she want a special page to herself?" demanded Peter Hope.
Ramsbotham asserted, in a Lecture at the London Hospital, that he had known the disease spread through a particular district, or be confined to the practice of a particular person, almost every patient being attacked with it, while others had not a single case. It seemed capable, he thought, of conveyance, not only by common modes; but through the dress of the attendants upon the patient.
"I can always get on with old men." "Only with the old ones?" queried Miss Ramsbotham. The door opened. "Anybody in?" asked the face of Johnny Bulstrode, appearing in the jar. "Can't you see they are?" snapped Tommy. "What do you want?" demanded the sub-editor. "Nothing in particular," replied the Babe.
'One loves, the other consents to be loved. If he will only let me do that I shall be content. It is more than I had any right to expect." "Oh, you are a fool," told her bluntly her bosom friend. "I know I am," admitted Miss Ramsbotham; "but I had no idea that being a fool was so delightful." Bohemia grew day by day more indignant and amazed. Young Peters was not even a gentleman.
"Once get in to see the old fellow and put the actual figures before him, he would clamour to come in." "Won't he see Clodd?" asked the Babe. "Won't see anybody on behalf of anything new just at present, apparently," answered Miss Ramsbotham. "It was my fault. I was foolish enough to repeat that I had heard he was susceptible to female charm. They say it was Mrs.
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