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

"A Prince of Sinners"

"How funny you are, Mr. Brooks."
"Am I?" he answered, good-humouredly. "Now let me hear what you have
been doing since I saw you in town."
Selina was immediately grave--not to say scornful.
"Doing! What do you suppose there is to do here?" she exclaimed,
reproachfully. "We've been sitting still waiting for something to
happen. But--have you said anything to Mr. Brooks yet, papa?"
Mr. Bullsom shook his head.
"Haven't had time," he answered. "Brooks had so much to say to me. You
knew all about our land company, Brooks, of course? You did a bit of
conveyancing for us.
"Of course I did," Brooks answered, "and I told you from the first that
you were going to make a lot of money by it."
Mr. Bullsom glanced around the room. The two maid-servants were at the
sideboard.
"Guess how much."
Brooks shook his head.
"I never knew your exact share," he said.
"It's half a million," Mr. Bullsom said, pulling down his waistcoat,
and squaring himself to the table. "Not bad, eh, for a country spec?"
"It's wonderful," Brooks admitted. "I congratulate you heartily.


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