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Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips), 1866-1946

"A Prince of Sinners"

Mr. Bullsom decided to give a
dinner-party every month, and to double the greengrocer's tip, and by
the time Selina's third stage whisper had reached her mother and the
ladies finally departed, he was in a state of geniality bordering upon
beatitude. There was a general move to his end of the table. Mr.
Bullsom started the port, and his shirt-front grew wider and wider. He
lit a cigar, and his thumb found its way to the armhole of his
waistcoat. At that moment Mr. Bullsom would not have changed places
with any man on earth.
"What sort of a place is Enton to stay at, Brooks, eh?" he inquired, in
a friendly manner. "Keeps it up very well, don't he, the present
Marquis?"
Brooks sighed.
"I really don't know much about it," he answered, "I was only there one
night."
"Good day's sport?"
"Very good indeed," Brooks answered. "Lord Arranmore is a wonderful
shot."
"A remarkable man in a great many ways, Lord Arranmore," Dr. Seventon
remarked. "He disappeared from London when he was an impecunious young
barrister with apparently no earthly chance of succeeding to the
Arranmore estates, and from that time till a few years ago, when he was
advertised for, not a soul knew his whereabouts.


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