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Locke, William John, 1863-1930

"Simon the Jester"

When I had
concluded, he brought his hand down on the arm of the chair.
"By Jove, you're splendid! I always said you were. Just splendid!"
He gulped down half a tumbler of whisky and soda to hide his feelings.
"And you've been doing all this while I've been making a howling fool
of myself! Look here, Simon, you were right all along the line--from the
very first when you tackled me about Lola. Do you remember?"
"Why refer to it?" I asked.
"I must!" he burst in quickly. "I've been longing to put myself square
with you. By the way, where is Lola?"
"I don't know," said I with grim truthfulness.
"Don't know? Has she vanished?"
"Yes," said I.
"That's the end of it, I suppose. Poor Lola! She was an awfully good
sort you know!" said Dale, "and I won't deny I was hit. That's when I
came such a cropper. But I realise now how right you were. I was just
caught by the senses, nothing else; and when she wrote to say it was all
off between us my vanity suffered--suffered damnably, old chap. I lost
the election through it.


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