I ask myself, he writes:
"What shall I give this Stephen? A book?. . . But he's got a book!. . . Ah, but has he a three-volume novel? No, bedad!. . . And, as I live, I don't believe that Violet Moses is included in his collected edition of the works of that mighty writer, Leonard Merrick." So here's a first edition for you, with my blessing. [Your secretary] should try to remove the labels with that nastiest of utensils, a wet, hot sponge. . . .
For the first time in many months Teixeira
was driven back on The Wrong Box to find an adequate comparison with the informative newcomer who now disturbed the noiseless tenour of his way: Joseph Finsbury has arrived, he writes, 2. 12. 20. Overhearing me tell my wife that Bucharest is the capital of Roumania, he leant forward and asked me if I had been to Bucharest.
Tex: No.
Joseph: Oh, I thought I heard you mention Bucharest.
