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Updated: June 2, 2025
He has a certain work to do, and a certain cause to serve namely, his own; and in order to do that work, and serve that cause, he uses such weapons as God has placed in his hands." "That's what the wild beasts do." "And where will you find men honester than they? The tiger tears you up because he is hungry and wants to eat you. That's what Supplehouse does.
"This sort of dictatorship will never do," Harold Smith had himself said, justifying that future vote of his as to want of confidence in the Queen's Government. And Mr. Supplehouse in this matter had fully agreed with him.
And then he passed on, hardly looking at Mrs. Harold Smith as he passed. "What a hang-dog countenance he has," said that lady. "Ah, you're prejudiced, my dear, and no wonder; as for myself I always liked Supplehouse. He means mischief; but then mischief is his trade, and he does not conceal it. If I were a politician I should as soon think of being angry with Mr.
"Should I, now? What a pity that I can't have that chance of improving my faith! But you are a man of business, also, Mr. Supplehouse; so they tell me." And she turned to her neighbour on her right hand. "I cannot compare myself to Harold Smith," said he. "But perhaps I may equal the bishop." "What does a man do, now, when he sits himself down to business? How does he set about it?
"I attribute it all to Supplehouse," said Green Walker, trying to console his friend. "Yes," said Harold Smith, now verging on the bounds of parliamentary eloquence, although he still spoke with bated breath, and to one solitary hearer. "Yes; we are becoming the slaves of a mercenary and irresponsible press of one single newspaper.
"Aye, but it's kill and let kill with him. That is what Horace says. However, I am tired of all that now, and I came here to-day to talk about something else." "I rather like Mr. Supplehouse myself," exclaimed Miss Dunstable. "He never makes any bones about the matter.
The Premier had shown his wisdom in seeking for new strength where strength ought to be sought, and introducing new blood into the body of his ministry. The people would now feel fresh confidence, and probably the House also. As to Mr. Supplehouse he would use all his influence on Supplehouse. But, after all, Mr. Supplehouse was not everything.
Robarts, and they always go out hunting before breakfast, and they never come back I was going to say till after dinner. I wish it were so, for then we should not have to wait for them." "Excepting Mr. Supplehouse, you know," said the unknown lady, in a loud voice. "And he is generally shut up in the library, writing articles."
And then he paused for a moment, during which Mrs. Smith remarked to Miss Dunstable that that was pretty well for a beginning; and Miss Dunstable replied, "that as for herself she felt very grateful to rank, wealth, and education." Mr. Sowerby winked to Mr. Supplehouse, who opened his eyes very wide and shrugged his shoulders.
Supplehouse was to be there, and Harold Smith, who now hated his enemy with a hatred surpassing that of women or even of politicians. The minor gods, it was thought, would congregate together in one room, very bitter in their present state of banishment; and the minor giants in another, terribly loud in their triumph.
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