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    Dolly Dialogues
    Dolly Dialogues
    Dolly Dialogues
    Ebook134 pages1 hour

    Dolly Dialogues

    By Anthony Hope

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    About this ebook

    Sir Anthony Hope was a noted playwright and novelist, and though he's still best remembered for The Prisoner of Zenda (1894) and its sequel Rupert of Hentzau (1898), he wrote dozens of action and adventure novels.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherKrill Press
    Release dateJan 17, 2016
    ISBN9781518373787
    Dolly Dialogues
    Author

    Anthony Hope

    Sir Anthony Hope Hawkins was born in 1863 and, after taking a degree at Oxford University, was called to the bar in 1887. He initially combined a successful career as a barrister with writing but the immediate success of his tenth book, The Prisoner of Zenda (1894), allowed him to become a full-time writer. The novel spawned a new genre – Ruritanian romance – and has been adapted numerous times for film, television and stage. In all, Hope wrote thirty-two works of fiction and an autobiography. At the close of the First World War he was knighted for his contribution to propaganda work. Hope died in 1933.

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      Book preview

      Dolly Dialogues - Anthony Hope

      DOLLY DIALOGUES

      ..................

      Anthony Hope

      SILVER SCROLL PUBLISHING

      Thank you for reading. In the event that you appreciate this book, please consider sharing the good word(s) by leaving a review, or connect with the author.

      This book is a work of fiction; its contents are wholly imagined.

      All rights reserved. Aside from brief quotations for media coverage and reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any form without the author’s permission. Thank you for supporting authors and a diverse, creative culture by purchasing this book and complying with copyright laws.

      Copyright © 2016 by Anthony Hope

      Interior design by Pronoun

      Distribution by Pronoun

      TABLE OF CONTENTS

      A LIBERAL EDUCATION

      CORDIAL RELATIONS

      RETRIBUTION

      THE PERVERSENESS OF IT

      A MATTER OF DUTY

      MY LAST CHANCE

      THE LITTLE WRETCH

      AN EXPENSIVE PRIVILEGE

      A VERY DULL AFFAIR

      STRANGE, BUT TRUE

      THE VERY LATEST THING

      AN UNCOUNTED HOUR

      A REMINISCENCE: I know exactly what your mother wants, Phyllis, observed Mrs. Hilary.

      A VERY FINE DAY

      THE HOUSE OPPOSITE

      A QUICK CHANGE: Why not go with Archie? I asked, spreading out my hands.

      A SLIGHT MISTAKE

      THE OTHER LADY

      WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN

      ONE WAY IN

      Dolly Dialogues

      By

      Anthony Hope

      Dolly Dialogues

      Published by Silver Scroll Publishing

      New York City, NY

      First published circa 1933

      Copyright © Silver Scroll Publishing, 2015

      All rights reserved

      Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

      About SILVER SCROLL PUBLISHING

      Silver Scroll Publishing is a digital publisher that brings the best historical fiction ever written to modern readers. Our comprehensive catalogue contains everything from historical novels about Rome to works about World War I.

      A LIBERAL EDUCATION

      ..................

      There’s ingratitude for you! Miss Dolly Foster exclaimed suddenly.

      Where! I asked, rousing myself from meditation.

      She pointed to a young man who had just passed where we sat. He was dressed very smartly, and was walking with a lady attired in the height of the fashion.

      I made that man, said Dolly, and now he cuts me dead before the whole of the Row! It’s atrocious. Why, but for me, do you suppose he’d be at this moment engaged to three thousand a year and—and the plainest girl in London?

      Not that, I pleaded; think of—

      Well, very plain anyhow. I was quite ready to bow to him. I almost did.

      In fact you did?

      I didn’t. I declare I didn’t.

      Oh, well, you didn’t then. It only looked like it.

      I met him, said Miss Dolly, three years ago. At that time he was—oh, quite unpresentable. He was everything he shouldn’t be. He was a teetotaler, you know, and he didn’t smoke, and he was always going to concerts. Oh, and he wore his hair long, and his trousers short, and his hat on the back of his head. And his umbrella—

      Where did he wear that?

      He carried that, Mr. Carter. Don’t be silly! Carried it unrolled, you know, and generally a paper parcel in the other hand; and he had spectacles too.

      "He has certainly changed, outwardly at least.

      Yes, I know; well, I did that. I took him in hand, and I just taught him, and now—!

      Yes, I know that. But how did you teach him? Give him Saturday evening lectures, or what?

      Oh, every-evening lectures, and most-morning walks. And I taught him to dance, and broke his wretched fiddle with my own hands!

      What very arbitrary distinctions you draw!

      I don’t know that you mean. I do like a man to be smart, anyhow. Don’t you, Mr. Carter? You’re not so smart as you might be. Now, shall I take you in hand? And she smiled upon me.

      Let’s hear your method. What did you do to him?

      To Phil Meadows? Oh, nothing. I just slipped in a remark here and there, whenever he talked nonsense. I used to speak just at the right time, you know.

      But how had your words such influence, Miss Foster?

      Oh, well, you know, Mr. Carter, I made it a condition that he should do just what I wanted in little things like that. Did he think I was going to walk about with a man carrying a brown paper parcel—as if we had been to the shop for a pound of tea?

      Still, I don’t see why he should alter all his—

      Oh, you are stupid! Of course, he liked me, you know.

      Oh, did he? I see.

      You seem to think that very funny.

      Not that he did—but that, apparently, he doesn’t.

      Well you got out of that rather neatly—for you. No, he doesn’t now. You see, he misunderstood my motive. He thought—well, I do believe he thought I cared for him, you know. Of course I didn’t.

      Not a bit?

      Just as a friend—and a pupil, you know. And when he’d had his hair cut and bought a frock coat (fancy he’d never had one!), he looked quite nice. He has nice eyes. Did you notice them.

      Lord, no!

      Well, you’re so unobservant.

      Oh, not always. I’ve observed that your—

      Please don’t! It’s no use, is it?

      I looked very unhappy. There is an understanding that I am very unhappy since Miss Foster’s engagement to the Earl of Mickleham was announced.

      What was I saying before—before you—you know—oh, about Phil Meadows, of course. I did like him very much, you know, or I shouldn’t have taken all that trouble. Why, his own mother thanked me!

      I have no more to say, said I.

      But she wrote me a horrid letter afterward.

      You’re so very elliptical.

      So very what, Mr. Carter?

      You leave so much out, I mean. After what?

      Why, after I sent him away. Didn’t I tell you? Oh, we had the most awful scene. He raved, Mr. Carter. He called me the most horrid names, and—

      Tore his hair?

      It wasn’t long enough to get hold of, she tittered. But don’t laugh. It was really dreadful. And so unjust! And then, next day, when I thought it was comfortably over, you know, he came back, and—and apologized, and called himself the most awful names, and—well, that was really worse.

      What did the fellow complain of? I asked in wondering tones.

      Oh, he said I’d destroyed his faith in women, you know, and that I’d led him on, and that I was—well, he was very rude indeed. And he went on writing me letters like that for a whole year? It made me quite uncomfortable.

      But he didn’t go back to short trousers and a fiddle, did he? I asked anxiously.

      Oh, no. But he forgot all he owed me, and he told me that his heart was dead, and that he should never love any one again.

      But he’s going to marry that girl.

      Oh, he doesn’t care about her, said Miss Dolly reassuringly. It’s the money, you know. He hadn’t a farthing of his own. Now he’ll be set up for life.

      And it’s all due to you! said I admiringly.

      Well, it is, really.

      I don’t call her such a bad-looking girl, though. (I hadn’t seen her face.)

      Mr. Carter! She’s hideous!

      I dropped that subject.

      And now, said Miss Dolly again, he cuts me dead!

      It is the height of ingratitude. Why, to love you was a liberal education!

      Yes, wasn’t it? How nicely you put that. A liberal education!’ I shall tell Archie. (Archie is Lord Mickleham.)

      What, about Phil Meadows?

      Goodness me, no, Mr. Carter. Just what you said, you know.

      But why not tell Mickleham about Phil Meadows? I urged. It’s all to your credit, you know.

      I know, but men are so foolish. You see, Archie thinks—

      Of course he does.

      You might let me finish.

      Archie thinks you were never in love before.

      Yes, he does. Well, of course, I wasn’t in love with Phil—

      Not a little bit?

      Oh, well—

      Nor with any one else?

      Miss Dolly looked for an instant

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