A remittance man. Hill, Meysey Hill. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. Earles said, slowly, keeping his eyes fixed upon her, “forty at the ‘Unusual,’ two turns, encores voluntary, six for matinées. It could not go on much longer, her luck. “You cannot seriously believe,” he said, “that at the present moment I care a snap of the fingers whether I have any dinner or not. “The Miss Pellissier who was at White’s with us.
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