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Updated: June 28, 2025
We are not prepared to carry on a long campaign the thing must be settled at once." "Shall we go down to the senior day room, and have it out?" said Mike. "No, we will play the fixture on our own ground. I think we may take it as tolerably certain that Comrade Spiller and his hired ruffians will try to corner us in the dormitory tonight.
Other men fought an unsheltered fight with the world, so why not he? He moved towards the door of the inner office with a certain exhilaration. As he approached, it flew open, disclosing Mr. Westley himself, a tall, thin man, at the sight of whom Spiller shot into his seat like a rabbit. John went to meet him. "Ah," said Mr. Westley; "come in here. I want to speak to you."
He hummed lightly as he walked, and now and then pointed out to Spiller objects of interest by the wayside. Mr. Outwood received them with the motherly warmth which was evidently the leading characteristic of his normal manner. "Ah, Spiller," he said. "And Smith, and Jackson. I am glad to see that you have already made friends."
"See here, Spiller, suppose you got up one day and found it was a perfectly bully morning, and remembered that the Giants were playing the Athletics, and looked at your mail, and saw that someone had sent you a pass for the game " "Were you at the ball-game? You've got the nerve! Didn't you know there would be trouble?"
As we did so we almost ran into a tall man who was coming out, evidently intending to speak to one of the drivers. The stranger stepped back with a word of apology, and I took note of him for a fellow-countryman, and a worldly buck of fashion indeed, almost as cap-a-pie the automobilist as my mysterious spiller of cider had been the pedestrian.
To be complimented by Spiller, the idol of the public an actor and she adored actors was like the condescension of a god. She dropped him a low curtsey. "Oh, and you're in the fashion too. How long have you been a fine lady?" Spiller's voice and manner had become slightly serious. Lavinia was too familiar with London life not to understand the inference. "I owe it all to Mr.
It would give us a place where we could work quietly in the evenings." "Quite so. Quite so." "Thank you very much, sir. We will move our things in." "Thank you very much, sir," said Mike. "Please, sir," shouted Spiller, "aren't I to have it? I'm next on the list, sir. I come next after Simpson. Can't I have it?" "I'm afraid I have already promised it to Smith, Spiller.
"How strange and inconsistent are the prejudices of man," resumed Matilda, half mournfully, half in sarcasm; "here is a warrior a spiller of human life by profession; his sword has been often dyed in the heart blood of his fellow man, and set he shudders at the thought of adding one murder more to the many already committed. What child-like weakness!" "Murder!
"There are few pleasures," said Psmith, as he resumed his favourite position against the mantelpiece and surveyed the commandeered study with the pride of a householder, "keener to the reflective mind than sitting under one's own roof-tree. This place would have been wasted on Spiller; he would not have appreciated it properly." Mike was finishing his tea.
You should have spoken before." "But, sir " Psmith eyed the speaker pityingly. "This tendency to delay, Spiller," he said, "is your besetting fault. Correct it, Edwin. Fight against it." He turned to Mr. Outwood. "We should, of course, sir, always be glad to see Spiller in our study. He would always find a cheery welcome waiting there for him. There is no formality between ourselves and Spiller."
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