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Updated: May 5, 2025
No common correspondence could possibly have had the number of attractively boxed gifts, the amount of handsomely printed literary and il-lustrated matter, and certainly not the unfailing persistency of flow, that constituted the correspondence of Mr. Simcox. The mine once discovered proved to be a mine inexhaustible and containing lodes or galleries of new and unsuspected wealth. Mr.
I am glad you have so good an ear; it may be a means of your earning your own honest livelihood when you leave me." "When I but I never intend to leave you, sir!" said Alice, beginning fearfully and ending calmly. Maltravers had recourse to the meerschaum. Luckily, perhaps, at this time, they were joined by Mr. Simcox, the old writing-master.
However, he cheered up the moment I showed him the photo of the girl. He asked me first of all where the devil I'd got it. Said he'd lost it somewhere before he was wounded." "Oh, it was his, then?" I said. "Yes," said Daintree, grinning, "it was his. He was particularly anxious to know how I came by it. I didn't tell him, of course. Couldn't give Simcox away, you know. Then Pat began to cheek me.
"You see," said Daintree, "his leg was pretty stiff and he couldn't get about much, even if he'd wanted to. There was nothing for him to do except sit in a deck-chair. My wife felt it her duty to talk to him a good deal." Daintree seemed to be making excuses for Mrs. Daintree and Simcox. They were unnecessary. Mrs.
The more I looked the more certain I was that I'd seen her somewhere, her or someone very like her. And it wasn't a commonplace face by any means. Poor Simcox kept begging us to think. My wife went over our visitors' book we've kept one of those silly things for years but there wasn't a name in it which we couldn't account for.
Daintree is a very kind and sympathetic lady. When she talks to me I feel ready to tell her anything. A man like Simcox, shy, reserved, and wholly unaccustomed to charming ladies, would succumb to her easily and pour out a love story or anything else he happened to have on his chest at the time.
He went straight to an agent of the office I recommended and did it." "There must be hundreds like him that would be grateful," said Rosalie. "Thousands," said Mr. Simcox. "Tens of thousands. Every single soul who insures, you may say." "Who got the commission?" said Rosalie. "The agent, of course," said Mr. Simcox. "Oh," said Rosalie. "Why?" said Mr. Simcox. "Nothing," said Rosalie. "Only 'oh ."
"But Simcox, though not very lovely now, has been, I dare say, handsomer than I am, Alice; and I shall be contented to look as well when I am as old!" "I should never know you were old, because I can see you just as I please.
Astonishing, annoying, and mind you, sometimes serious and embarrassing." "Why, you busy, busy person, you!" cried Aunt Belle with her customary air towards a man of shaking her finger at him. "You very busy person! Fancy a basket full of correspondence! Why what a heap you must have!" Mr. Simcox said he had indeed a heap. "Sometimes I think more than I can manage."
Here, you, Simcox, what the devil are you gaping there for, like a stuck pig; why don't you send for the police?" Simcox turned to fly, and almost ran into Mrs. Dexter, who was followed by Celia. Strangely enough Mrs. Dexter had been almost the last to hear of the calamity; a terrified servant had dashed into her room with the awful news. Celia's room was next to Mrs.
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