The Man Upstairs
The Man Upstairs
and Other Stories
The Man UpstairsSomething to Worry AboutDeep WatersWhen Doctors DisagreeBy Advice of CounselRough-Hew Them How We WillThe Man Who Disliked CatsRuth in ExileArchibald's BenefitThe Man, the Maid and the MiasmaThe Good AngelPots O' MoneyOut of SchoolThree From DunstervilleThe Tuppenny MillionaireAhead of ScheduleSir AgravaineThe Goal-Keeper and the PlutocratIn Alcala
Book Excerpt
resently she looked up and smiled, a moist and pathetic smile.
'I'm sorry,' she said, 'for being so stupid. But he was so horrid and patronizing to you, I couldn't help scratching. I believe I'm the worst cat in London.'
'No, this is,' said Beverley, pointing to the canvas. 'At least, according to the late Sellers. But, I say, tell me, isn't the deceased a great artist, then? He came curveting in here with his chest out and started to slate my masterpiece, so I naturally said, "What-ho! 'Tis a genius!" Isn't he?'
'He can't sell his pictures anywhere. He lives on the little he can get from illustrating advertisements. And I t-taunt--'
'Please!' said Beverley, apprehensively.
She recovered herself with a gulp.
'I can't help it,' she said, miserably. 'I rubbed it in. Oh, it was hateful of me! But I was all on edge from teaching one of my awful pupils, and when he started to patronize you--'
She blinked.
'Poor devil!' said Beverley. 'I never guessed
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ALRIGHT. THANKS A LOT,
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