Earl Derr Biggers

“ You want me to marry Harrowby. You're working for it. I shouldn't be surprised if you were on that train last Monday just to make sure that—I'd—get here—safely."
Really, it was inhuman. Did she realize how inhuman it was? One glance at Minot might have told her. But she was still looking away.
"So I want to thank you, Mr. Minot," she went on. "I shall always remember your—kindness. I couldn't understand at first, but now—I wonder? You know, it's an old theory that as soon as one has one's own affair of the heart arranged, one begins to plan for others?" ”

“ I hate clever women, and I'm sure you do, too. I'm not a bit clever, and I'm proud of it On the contrary, I'm rather weak—rather easily got round. But when I think of the position Allan put me in—even a weak woman can be firm in the circumstances."
"Have it your own way," said Minot, bowing. "But you are at least clever enough to understand the futility of demanding financial redress from a man who is fiat broke. I assure you Lord Harrowby hasn't a shilling." ”

“ Minot stepped into the shop. A dozen awed housewives from the Middle West were hurrying away to write home on the hotel stationery that they had met a prince. When the last one had gone out Minot stepped forward. "Prince—I've dropped in to warn you. A very angry woman will be here shortly to see you."
The handsome young Persian shrugged his shoulders, and took off the jacket of the native uniform with which he embellished his talks.
"Why is she angry? All my rugs—they are what I say they are. In this town are many liars selling oriental rugs. Oriental! Ugh! In New Jersey they were made. ”

“ Lord Harrowby, interrogated, was merely useless and frantic He couldn't raise a shilling. He couldn't offer a suggestion. "Dear old chap," he moaned, "I depend on you."
Three-thirty! Well, Thacker and Jephson had asked the impossible, that was all. Minot felt he had done his best. No man could do more. He was very sorry for Jephson, but—golden before him opened the possibility of Miss Cynthia Meyrick free to be wooed.
Yet he must be faithful to the last. At a quarter to four he read Jephson's cablegram again. ”

“ I could write the most gorgeous things about you—and no one could say I lied."
"You men are so nice," she gurgled, "when you want to be." Ah, yes, Gabrielle Rose had always found them so, and had yet to meet one not worth her while to capture. She turned the baby stare full on Minot. Even to a beauty of the theater he was an ingratiating picture. She rose and strolled to a piano in one corner of the room, Minot followed.
"When Harrowby first met me," she said, her fingers on the keys, "I was singing Just a Little. ”

“ He can get money somehow. He always could. The courts can force him to. I shall tell my lawyer to go ahead with the suit."
"If you would only delay—a, week—"
"Impossible." Miss Rose spoke with haughty languor. "I begin rehearsals in New York in a week. No, I shall start suit to-day. You may tell Lord Harrowby so."
Poor Jephson! Minot had a mental picture of the little bald man writing at that very moment a terribly large check for the Dowager Duchess of Tremayne—paying for the rain that had fallen in torrents. He must at least hold this woman off until Jephson answered his cable. ”

“ You are mistaken. I have never married."
"Oh, yes, you have. I know all about it, There's no need to lie. The whole story is out, and the lady's game in San Marco is queered. She thinks you told. That's why she'll be here for a chat." ”