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Updated: May 4, 2025
Greyne's majestic features, made them look Rembrandtesque. Her large, oxlike eyes were fixed and thoughtful. After a pause, she said: "Eustace, I shall have to send you upon a mission." "A mission, Eugenia!" said Mr. Greyne in great surprise. "A mission of the utmost importance, the utmost delicacy." "Has it anything to do with Romeike & Curtice?" "No." "Will it take me far?" "That is my trouble.
He read the label attached to the case of scores: "Claude Heath, passenger to Algiers, via Marseilles." And he could scarcely believe he was really going. As he looked up from the label he saw the post lying on the hall-table. Two letters for him, and ah, some more cuttings from Romeike and Curtice. He was quite accustomed to getting those now.
The last post had brought him the above-mentioned leaves of the Romeike laurel, and he sat in his easiest chair by the bright fire, adjusting them, metaphorically, upon his high brow, a decanter at his right-hand and cigarette smoke curling up from his left.
I well remember the year in which I considered myself as a possible suitor for the hand of Della Fox. Photographs and posters of this deity adorned my walls. I was an assiduous collector of newspaper clippings referring to her profoundly interesting activities, although my sophistication had not reached the stage where I might appeal to Romeike for assistance.
Here is Charmian!" Charmian came in, flushed with the cold outside, her long eyes sparkling, her hands deep in a huge muff. "Sitting with Madre, Claude!" "I have been telling her we expect her to come to us in spring." "Of course we do. That's settled. I found these cuttings in the hall." She drew one hand out of her muff. It was holding the newspaper slips of Romeike and Curtice.
"I've refused all these to Uncle Timothy; he's been worrying me with questions " I said desperately. "Three florists, two confectioners," he enumerated, as if he had not heard me. " Women eat sweets by the ton, but lately there have been few of 'em in this house. Then here are the accounts for newspaper clippings, you know; Shanks and Romeike; but they're trifles."
He wrote to her, indeed, frequently, and his letters were full of wistful regret and longing to be once more safe in the old homestead in Belgrave Square, drinking barley water, and pasting Romeike & Curtice notices into the new album which lay, gaping for him, upon the table of his sanctum. But he did not come; nay, more, he wrote plainly that there was no prospect of his coming for the present.
"What's this?" he said to Charmian, who was sitting opposite to him. "Romeike and Curtice! Why should they send me anything?" He picked up one of the cuttings. "It's from a paper called My Lady." "What is it about?" "It seems to be an account of Mrs. Shiffney's party, with something marked in blue pencil, 'Mrs.
That was the verdict as delivered to me by Romeike from 300 reviewers, and it drove me to farces. So, I was especially glad when you liked "Royal Macklin." I tried to make a "hero" who was vain, theatrical, boasting and selfconscious, but, still likable. But, I did not succeed in making him of interest, and it always has hurt me.
John Hancock, through his genial, glowing personality, and his lavish spending of money, was very popular. He was being fed on flattery, and the more a man gets of flattery, once the taste is acquired, the more he craves. It is like the mad thirst for liquor, or the Romeike habit. John Hancock was getting attention, and he wanted more.
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