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Smith, Francis Hopkinson, 1838-1915

"Peter: a novel of which he is not the hero"

"
"Black coffee is the only thing that'll settle this head. What you
want to do, Jack, is to send that old fossil word that you've got
another engagement, and . . .Parkins, is there anything going on
here to-night?"
"Yes, sir; Miss Cocinne is giving a small dance."
"There, Jack--that's it. That'll let you out with a whole skin."
"No, I can't, and I won't, Uncle Arthur," he answered in an
indignant tone. "If you knew him as I do, and had seen him last
night, you would--"
"No, I don't want to know him and I don't want to see him. You are
all balled up, I see, and can't work loose, but take him upstairs;
don't let your aunt come across him or she'll have a fit." Here he
glanced at the bronze clock. "What!--ten minutes past nine!
Parkins, see if my cab is at the door. . . . Jack, you ride down
with me. I walked when I was your age, and got up at daylight.
Some difference, Jack, isn't there, whether you've got a rich
uncle to look after you or not." This last came with a wink.
It was only one of his pleasantries.


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