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Black, William, 1841-1898

"Prince Fortunatus"

And I suppose he expects the public to believe that his
wild language, all about nothing, means strength; just as he hopes that
they will take his noisy horse-laugh for humor. That's Octavius Quirk as
a writer--a nobody, a nothing, a wisp of straw in convulsions; but as a
puffer--ah, there you have him!--as a puffer, magnificent, glorious, a
Greek hero, invincible, invulnerable. My good man, it's Octavius Quirk
you should go to! Get him to call on his pack of beagles to give tongue;
and then, my goodness, you'll hear a cry--for a while at least. Is there
anything at all in the book?"
"I don't know," said Harry Thornhill, who had changed quickly, and was
now regaling himself with a little of Miss Burgoyne's lemonade, with
which the prima-donna was so kind as to keep him supplied. "Well, now, I
shall be on the stage some time; what do you say to looking over Lady
Adela's novel?"
"All right."
There was a tapping at the door; it was the call-boy.
But Lionel Moore did not immediately answer the summons.
"Look here, Maurice; if you should find anything in the book--anything
you could say a word in favor of--I wish you'd come round to the Garden
Club with me, after the performance, and have a bit of supper.


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