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Updated: May 14, 2025
So far as he knew, nobody in the world admired him. They might admire his work, but him personally they felt sorry for or despised. Few even admired his work. The Post had given him satisfactory proof of that. Conant, Willoughby, and Smathers would admire it yes, wish to the Lord that they had written it. But would that fill his cup to overflowing?
Is he an expert? a trained relief worker? Does he know Willoughby? And Smathers? And Conant?" "Knows them by heart. Quotes pages of them at a time in his letters without ever glancing at the books." "And you?" "I may claim some familiarity with their theories." He fussed with his pencil. "I recall defining sociology for you one night at my boarding-house...." "I remember."
Smathers and Petrie lifted up their voices in one despairing howl. "When you what?" fairly yelled Smathers. "You fool! You don't mean to tell me that you let them take you in like that those two? You don't mean to tell me that you had him, had him in your hands, and then let him go? You did? Oh, you seventy-seven kinds of a double-barrelled ass! Had him think of it! had him, and let him go!
"He's like a blind drunk, or a man in a trance, he is he's just not there in the head, and you have to walk around and dress his body, like he was a dumb wax-work. If I get the lay, Smathers, I'll tip you off. There might be something in it for us. He's due for dinner and bridge at the Met., but unless Frenchy puts him out of the motor, he won't know when he gets there" which proved true.
"Hullo, Smathers, you in this, too?" began he, his feelings softened by the knowledge that other arms of the law would figure on that film with him at the Alhambra to-night. "Now, what are you after, you goat? That French lady, or the red-headed party in the gray suit?" "Yes, yes, of course I am.
"I had him I had the Vanishing Cracksman in my blessed paws and then went and let that French hussy But look here; I say, now, how do you know it was him? Nobody can go by his looks; so how do you know?" "Know, you footler!" growled Smathers, disgustedly. "Why shouldn't I know when I've been after him ever since he left Scotland Yard half an hour ago?" "Left what? My hat!
It was a cross to Felice that she was not allowed to go through the small arched doorway at the back of the garden that led to the stable that opened on the narrow cobblestone "Tradespersons' Street." The Major didn't approve of the manners of Zeb Smathers the kennel man, or Zeb's wife Marthy, though he knew there wasn't a pair with their patience and skill to be found for miles around.
"But how do they live? they haven't a cent to their names," said Henriette. "Simplicity itself," said I. "He is dressed by his tailors and she by her dressmaker; and as for food, they take home a suit-case full of it from every house-party they attend. They're so gracious to the servants that they don't have to think of tips; and as for Smathers, and Mrs.
The office of the Department was a ship-shape place, with its two desks, a big one and a little one; the typewriter table; the rows and rows of letter-files on shelves; a sectional bookcase containing Charities reports from other States, with two shelves reserved for authoritative books by such writers as Willoughby, Smathers, and Conant.
"Well," said he, determined to find something wrong, "those men whom I mentioned to you are not so good as they think, particularly Smathers. I may as well tell you that I shall show Smathers up completely in my book." "We shall examine your arguments with care and attention. We leave no stone unturned to keep abreast of the best modern thought."
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