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Frederic, Harold, 1856-1898

"The Market-Place"

You'll find him all right to work
with,--if you can only get him up in the morning,--and
I've kind o' promised him something of the sort.
Does that suit you?" Semple's countenance was thoughtful
rather than enthusiastic. "I'm more skeptical about
Lords than you are," he observed, "but if he's amenable,
and understands that his part is to do what I tell
him to do, I've no doubt we shall hit it off together."
"Oh, absolutely!" said Thorpe, with confidence.
"I'll see to it that he behaves like a lamb. You're to have
an absolutely free hand. You're to do what you like,--
wind the Company up, or sell it out, or rig it up under
a new name and catch a new set of gudgeons with it,--
whatever you damned please. When I trust a man, I trust him."
The two friends, their faces brightened and their voices
mellowed by this serene consciousness of their mutual trust
in each other's loyalty and integrity, dwelt no further upon
these halcyon beginnings of a fresh plan for plundering
the public. They spoke instead on personal topics--of
the possibility of Semple's coming to Scotland during
the autumn, and of the chance of Thorpe's wintering abroad.
All at once Thorpe found himself disclosing the fact
of his forthcoming marriage, though he did not mention
the name of the lady's father, and under the gracious
stress of this announcement they drank again, and clinked
glasses fervently.


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