The Man from Brodney's by George Barr McCutcheon
page 50 of 398 (12%)
page 50 of 398 (12%)
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don't you know," he exclaimed, disdainfully eyeing the narrow, dusty
passage ahead. Here and there a rude house or shop stood directly ahead in the middle of the thoroughfare, with happy disregard for effect or convenience. "There's the British flag, my lord, just ahead. See the building to the right, sir?" said Mr. Saunders, more respectfully than ever and with real gratitude in his heart. "So it is! That's where he is. I wonder why he isn't down here to meet us." "Very likely he didn't know we were coming," said his wife icily. "Well, we'll look him up. Come along, everybody--Oh, I say, we can't leave this luggage unguarded. They say these fellows are the worst robbers east of London." It was finally decided, after a rather subdued discussion, that Mr. Saunders should proceed to the bank and rout out the dilatory representative of the British Government. Saunders looked down the sullen line of faces, and blanched to his toes. He hemmed and hawed and said something about his mother, which was wholly lost upon the barren waste that temporarily stood for a heart in Lord Deppingham's torso. "Tell him we'll wait here for him," pursued his lordship. "But remind him, damn him, that it's inexpressibly hot down here in the sun." They stood and watched the miserable Saunders tread gingerly up the filthy street, his knees crooking outwardly from time to time, his toes |
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