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Locke, William John, 1863-1930

"Simon the Jester"

A pretty
position to find myself in. I threw away my cigarette impatiently.
Presently she said, not stirring from her pose:
"I shall miss you terribly if you go. A man like you doesn't come
into the life of a common woman like me without"--she hesitated for a
word--"without making some impression. I can't bear to lose you."
"I shall be very sorry to give up our pleasant comradeship," said I,
"but even if I stay and send the private inquiry agent instead of going
myself, I shan't be able to go on seeing you in this way."
"Why not?"
"It would be scarcely dignified."
"On account of Dale?"
"Precisely."
There was another pause, during which I lit another cigarette. When I
looked up I saw great tears rolling down her cheeks. A weeping woman
always makes me nervous. You never know what she is going to do next.
Safety lies in checking the tears--in administering a tonic. Still, her
wish to retain me was very touching. I rose and stood before her by the
mantelpiece.
"You can't have your pudding and eat it too," said I.


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