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Hope, Anthony, 1863-1933

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And there's the butcher in Market Street who's got
some trouble about slaughterhouses that I'm simply hanged if I can
understand. I jawed with him for half-an-hour yesterday, and then didn't
hook him safe."
"Alexander must find time to go and hook him," said May, smiling.
"Alexander'll be great on slaughter-houses."
"And at the last minute Smiley's been hinting something about Mildmay
giving a bit of land to extend the Recreation Ground. A beastly
unscrupulous fellow I call Smiley."
"Oh, poor Mr. Smiley! He wants to win."
"He might play fair, though."
"Might he? Oh, well, I suppose so. We've played fair anyhow--pretty
fair, haven't we?"
"Rather!"
"You really think so, Jimmy?" She was serious now; Jimmy reached out his
hand and touched hers for a moment; he divined that she was asking him
for a verdict and was anxious what it might be.
"Rather!" he said again. "That's all right. We've kept to the rules
square enough."
"Then I'm off to bow and smile!" she cried. As she went by she touched
his hand again. "Thanks, Jimmy," she said.


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