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Updated: June 11, 2025
And yet our own particular share in these discoveries is limited to making use of them under expert guidance, which any barbarian, after overcoming his first terror, is quite as competent to do as we are. It is a harmless vanity enough, and especially pardonable in Ventimore's case, when it was so desirable to correct any tendency to "uppishness" on the part of the Jinnee.
It's not an article you come across every day of your lives." The bottle was still being passed round with disrespectful raps and slaps, and it had now come to Ventimore's right-hand neighbour, who scrutinised it carefully, but made no bid. "That's all right, you know," he whispered in Horace's ear. "That's good stuff, that is. If I was you, I'd 'ave that."
At length, however, two of them appeared, bearing the brass bottle with every sign of awe, and depositing it at Ventimore's feet. Professor Futvoye, after wiping and adjusting his glasses, proceeded to examine the vessel.
So, on all these considerations, Horace decided that silence was his only possible policy, and, though some moralists may condemn his conduct as disingenuous and wanting in true moral courage, I venture to doubt whether any reader, however independent, straightforward, and indifferent to notoriety and ridicule, would have behaved otherwise in Ventimore's extremely delicate and difficult position.
Perhaps there is no art more liable to misconstruction than pantomime; certainly, Ventimore's efforts in this direction were misunderstood, for the music became wilder, louder, more aggressively and abominably out of tune and then a worse thing happened.
Ventimore's practice is so extensive that he cannot leave it for one afternoon " Evidently it was not a house. Could he be needed to escort them somewhere that afternoon? Even that was more than he had hoped for a few minutes since. He hastened to repeat that he was perfectly free that afternoon.
In another minute or so this formidable Jinnee would be safely bottled once more, and powerless to intermeddle and plague him for the future. And yet, in the very moment of triumph, quixotic as such scruples may seem to some, Ventimore's conscience smote him.
"Well," said Horace, evading this point, "however they've done this, they've done it remarkably well you'll admit that, Mrs. Rapkin?" "That's as may be sir," said Mrs. Rapkin, with a sniff, "but it ain't my taste, nor yet I don't think it will be Rapkin's taste when he comes to see it." It was not Ventimore's taste either, though he was not going to confess it. "Sorry for that, Mrs.
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