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Updated: June 28, 2025
After that with Mr. Turner to the Dolphin and drunk, and so by water to W. Symons, where D. Scobell with his wife, a pretty and rich woman. Mrs. Symons, a very fine woman, very merry after dinner with marrying of Luellin and D. Scobell's kinswoman that was there. Then to my Lord who told me how the King has given him the place of the great Wardrobe. My Lord resolves to have Sarah again.
Scobell's active mind had soared above the original idea of domestic coziness to far greater heights of ingenuity. Each of the rooms was furnished and arranged in a different style. The note of individuality extended even to the croupiers.
Scobell's visit to General Poineau, John, Prince of Mervo, ignorant of the greatness so soon to be thrust upon him, was strolling thoughtfully along one of the main thoroughfares of that outpost of civilization, Jersey City. He was a big young man, tall and large of limb.
Scobell's account at the Wall Street office of the European and Asiatic Bank." The name Scobell had been recurring like a leit-motif in Mr. Crump's conversation. This suddenly came home to John. "Before we go any further," he said, "let's get one thing clear. Who is this Mr. Scobell? How does he get mixed up in this?" "He is the proprietor of the Casino at Mervo."
For a week you have been gambling on this island without a concession and now it's going to stop. Do you understand?" "But, Prince, talk sense." Mr. Scobell's voice was almost tearful. "It's you who don't understand. Do, for the love of Mike, come down off the roof and talk sense. Do you suppose that these guys here will stand for this? Not on your life. Not for a minute. See here.
And then the obvious explanation occurred to her. "Did my stepfather cable?" she asked. Mrs. Oakley laid down the feather duster and, opening a drawer, produced some sheets of paper to the initiated eye plainly one of Mr. Scobell's lengthy messages. "A wickedly extravagant cable," she said, frowning at it. "He could have expressed himself perfectly well at a quarter of the expense."
Scobell's villa stood near the summit of the only hill the island possessed, and from the window of the morning-room, where he had just finished breakfast, he had an uninterrupted view of valley, town, and harbor a two-mile riot of green, gold and white, and beyond the white the blue satin of the Mediterranean. Mr.
Further down the hill, he selected a site for a villa, where the mimosa blazed, and another where at present there were a number of utterly useless violets. A certain practical element was apt, perhaps, to color Mr. Scobell's half-hours with nature. The sight of the steamboat leaving the harbor on its journey to Marseilles gave him another idea.
Scobell's voice at his back, talking on, but the words had no meaning for him. He had begun to think with a curious coolness. His detachment surprised him. It was one of those rare moments in a man's life when, from the outside, through a breach in that wall of excuses and self-deception which he has been at such pains to build, he looks at himself impartially.
Paul's Churchyarde, and there bespoke "Rushworth's Collections," and "Scobell's Acts of the Long Parliament," &c., which I will make the King pay for as to the office; and so I do not break my vow at all.
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