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Freeman, R. Austin (Richard Austin), 1862-1943

"The Vanishing Man"

"
"No," she answered bitterly; "it is a counsel of perfection. People in
our position are not a very cheerful class, I am afraid; but still they
don't seek out worries from sheer perverseness. The worries come
unsought. But, of course, you can't enter into that."
"I can't give any practical help, I fear, though I do sincerely hope
that your father's affairs will straighten themselves out soon."
She thanked me for my good wishes and accompanied me down to the street
door, where, with a bow and a rather stiff handshake, she gave me my
_conge_.
Very ungratefully the noise of Fetter Lane smote on my ears as I came
out through the archway, and very squalid and unrestful the little
street looked when contrasted with the dignity and monastic quiet of the
old garden. As to the surgery, with its oilcloth floor and walls made
hideous with gaudy insurance show-cards in sham gilt frames, its aspect
was so revolting that I flew to the day-book for distraction, and was
still busily entering the morning's visits when the bottle-boy,
Adolphus, entered stealthily to announce lunch.


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