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Updated: May 31, 2025
As to myself, as I claim it an honor to call myself your friend, so let it be my privilege to help you in your new life and and you will find five thousand guineas to your credit when you reach New York, and and heaven prosper you." "Sir " began Mr. Smivvle, but his voice failing him he turned away and crossing to the window stood there apparently lost in contemplation of the glory of the morning.
"If this coat is ever found, it will hang him!" said Barnabas. "Come, help me to get it off." So between them it was done; thereafter, while Mr. Smivvle crouched beside that restless, muttering form, Barnabas put on his cloak and, rolling up the torn coat, hid it beneath its ample folds. "What, are you going, Beverley?" "Yes for one thing to get rid of this coat.
Smivvle reached out and poked him gently with the head of his tasselled cane. "Awake, James?" said he. "Name of Harthur if you please, sir!" retorted the Gentleman-in-Powder, brushing away the touch of the cane, and eyeing the place with much concern. "If, James," continued Mr.
"Come in, I want your help " "My help, Oh Gemini!" and, with the word, Mr. Smivvle was in the room. "My help?" he repeated. "Oh Jupiter only say the word, my dear fellow." "Why, then, I want you to aid me to dress." "Dress? Eh, what, Beverley get up, is it?" "Yes. Pray get me my clothes in the press yonder, I fancy." "Certainly, my dear fellow, but are you strong enough?" inquired Mr.
Indeed, though his hat was at its usual rakish angle, though he swung his cane and strode with all his ordinary devil-may-care swagger, though his whiskers were as self-assertive as ever, yet Mr. Smivvle himself was unusually pensive, and in his bold black eyes was a look very like anxiety.
"No, I don't, sir!" he answered dryly. Mr. Smivvle felt for his whisker, found it, and smiled. "Quite so, my Lord, I am but one of the concourse the multitude the ah the herd, though, mark me, my Lord, a Smivvle, sir, a Smivvle, every inch of me, while you are the owner of 'Moonraker, and Moonraker's the word just now, I hear. But, sir, I have a friend "
Smivvle, coming to the press on tip-toe. "Strong enough!" cried Barnabas in profound scorn, "Of course I am!" and forthwith sprang to the floor and clutched at the bedpost to save himself from falling. "Ha I feared so!" said Mr. Smivvle, hurrying to him with the garments clasped in his arms. "Steady! There, lean on me I'll have you back into bed in a jiffy."
Smivvle hurried forward with a chair which, like all the rest of the furniture, had long ago seen its best days, during which manoeuvre he contrived to whisper hurriedly: "Poor Barry's decidedly 'touched' to-day, a little more so than usual, but you'll excuse him I know, my dear fellow.
Smivvle spoke, Barrymaine fell back and lay moaning fitfully and with half-closed eyes. "Indeed I fear he is very ill, Beverley!" "If he isn't better by morning, get a doctor," said Barnabas, "but, whatever you do keep Chichester away from him. As regards money I'll see you shan't want for it. And now, for the present, good-by!"
"A lie!" he cried, "a foul, cowardly lie!" "Then you you didn't buy up the debt, Beverley?" "No! no! I couldn't, Gaunt had sold already, and by heaven I believe the real creditor is " "Ha!" cried Smivvle, pointing suddenly, "the door wasn't fastened, Beverley, look there!"
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