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Now, about this expedition to Kertch?" And Sir Humphrey proceeded to discuss and dispose of great questions of supply in a prompt, off-hand way that both silenced and terrified Mr. Faulks. Mr. Faulks was rather fond of good living, and, as a rule, he never allowed official cares to interfere with his lunch, a meal brought in on a tray from an eating-house in the Strand.
Impossible!" This pestilent Sir Humphrey was upsetting every tradition of the office. Mr. Faulks again settled himself in his arm-chair, with the air of a man who refused to move out of his proper groove. "Mr. Faulks! Mr. Faulks!" Another unseemly intrusion. This time it was Sprott, the chief messenger, flurried and frightened, no doubt, by recent reproof.
There has long been a rumour of some change in the plan of operations, and he seems to be right in his conjecture." "He knows nothing at all about it how can he?" said Mr. Faulks, contemptuously. "You must forgive my differing with you. It is not my business to say how he obtains his information, but I have generally found that he is right. Now, this great expedition "
"Of course you ought; I have often heard Lord Essendine say so." "Has he now, really?" asked Mr. Faulks, much flattered. "Frequently," went on Mrs. Wilders, fluently, availing herself readily of the opening he had given her. "I am sure he has only to know that you are disappointed in this matter and he will give you the warmest support.
"I will watch over her for dear Stanny's sake. I was fond of that lad, and she shall be like a daughter to me." At first she seemed quite dazed and stupefied by her grief. She gave up her lover as utterly lost, and would not listen to the consolation and encouragement offered. "He'll turn up, my dear," said Captain Faulks; "you'll see. He was not saved from drowning to die by a Russian rope.
Jones, a staid, hard-featured, middle-aged lady in deep black, an officer's widow like herself, as she explained, who lived a few doors down, and was an acquaintance of the last month or two, Mr. Hobson, and Mr. Faulks. The dinner was almost studied in simplicity, but absolutely perfect of its kind. Clear soup, salmon cutlets, a little joint, salad, and quail in vine-leaves.
"There are, perhaps, important movements intended in the Crimea?" asked Mr. Hobson, as he picked his strawberries and prepared himself a sauce of sugar and cream. "You have heard so?" replied Mr. Faulks. "There was something in the Times this morning from their special correspondent. Some new expedition was talked of." "They ought to be all shot, these correspondents," said Mr. Faulks, decisively.
"Is all moonshine!" cried Mr. Faulks, losing his temper, and thrown off his guard. "It's quite a small affair a trip round the Sea of Azof, and the reduction of Kertch." "The old affair revived, in fact." "Neither more nor less. There is no intention at the present moment of drawing any large detachment from the siege. On the contrary, every effort is being strained to bring it to an end."
"Sir Humphrey's going on awful, sir; he's rung his bell three times, and asked how long it took you to go upstairs." Sullenly, and sorely against his will, Mr. Faulks rose and joined his chief. "I have asked for you several times," said Sir Humphrey Fothergill, a much younger man than Mr.
He is to be executed immediately. Will renew request with strong protest, but fear there is no hope." Mr. Faulks groaned heavily and let the telegram fall on the ground. "What has happened?" asked Mrs. Wilders, eagerly. "You were right too right. That poor boy " "Stanislas?"
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