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The Man from Brodney's by George Barr McCutcheon
page 50 of 398 (12%)
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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