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Extremes Meet.
Scene-An Excursion Agent's Offices. Behind the counters polite and patient Clerks are besieged by a crowd of Intending Tourists, all asking questions at once.
First Intending Tourist. Here-have you made out that estimate for me yet?
Clerk. In one moment, Sir. (He refers to a list, turns over innumerable books, jots down columns of francs, marks, and florins; reduces them to English money, and adds them up.) First class fares on the Rhine, Danube and Black Sea steamers, I think you said, second class rail, and postwagen?
First Int. T. I did say so, I believe; but you had better make it second class all through, and I can always pay the difference if I want to.
[The Clerk alters the sums accordingly, and adds up again.
Clerk. Fifty-five pounds fourteen and a penny, Sir. Shall I make you out the tickets now?
First Int. T. Um, no. On second thoughts, I'd like to see one of your short Circular Tours for the English Lakes, or Wales, before I decide.
[The Clerk hands him a quantity of leaflets, with which he retires.
Enter Mr. Clarendon Culchard, age about twenty-eight; in Somerset House; tall; wears glasses, stoops slightly, dresses carefully, though his tall hat is of the last fashion but two. He looks about him expectantly, and then sits down to wait.
Culchard (to himself). No sign of him yet! I do like a man to keep an appointment. If this is the way he begins-I have my doubts whether he is quite the sort of fellow to-but I took the precaution to ask Hugh Rose about him, and Rose said he was the best company in the world, and I couldn't help getting on with him. I don't think Rose would deceive me. And from all I've seen of Podbury, he seems a pleasant fellow enough. What a Babel! All these people bent on pleasure, going to seek it in as many directions-with what success no one can predict. There's an idea for a sonnet there.
[He brings out a pocket-book, and begins to write-"As when a--"
An Amurrcan Citizen (to Clerk). See here, I've been around with your tickets in Yurrup, and when I was at Vernis, I bought some goods at a store there, and paid cash down for 'em, and they promised to send 'em on for me right here, and that was last fall, and I've never heard any more of 'em, and what I want you should do now is to instruct your representative at Vernis to go round and hev a talk with that man, and ask him what in thunder he means by it, and kinder hint that he'll hev the Amurrcan Consul in his hair pretty smart, if he don't look slippier!
[The Clerk mildly suggests that it would be better to communicate directly with the American Consulate, or with the tradesman himself.
The A. C. But hold on-how'm I goin' to write to that sharp, when I've lost his address, and disremember his name? Can't you mail a few particulars to your agent, so he'll identify him? No? (Disappointed.) Well, I thought you'd ha' fixed up a little thing like that, anyhow; in my country they'd ha' done it right away. Yes, Sir!
[He goes away in grieved surprise.
Enter Mr. James Podbury, age twenty-six; in a City Office; short, fresh-coloured, jaunty; close-cut dark hair. Not having been to the City to-day, he is wearing light tweeds, and brown boots.
Yes, Sir
Podbury (to himself). Just nicked it-(looks at clock)-more or less. And he doesn't seem to have turned up yet. Wonder how we shall hit it off together. Hughie Rose said he was a capital good chap-when you once got over his manner. Anyhow, it's a great tip to go abroad with a fellow who knows the ropes. (Suddenly sees Culchard absorbed in his note-book.) So here you are, eh?
Culch. (slightly scandalized by the tweeds and the brown boots). Yes, I've been here some little time. I wish you could have managed to come before, because they close early here to-day, and I wanted to go thoroughly over the tour I sketched out before getting the tickets.
[He produces an elaborate outline.
Podb. (easily). Oh, that's all right! I don't care where I go! All I want is, to see as much as we can in the time-leave all the rest to you. I'll sit here while you get the tickets.
An Old Lady (to Clerk, as Culchard is waiting at the counter). Oh, I beg your pardon, but could you inform me if the 1·55 train from Calais to Basle stops long enough for refreshments anywhere, and where they examine the luggage, and if I can leave my hand-bag in the carriage, and whether there is an English service at Yodeldorf, and is it held in the hotel, and Evangelical, or High Church, and are the sittings free, and what Hymn-book they use?
[The Clerk sets her mind free on as many of these points as he can, and then attends to Culchard.
Culch. (returning to Podbury with two cases bulging with books of coloured coupons). Here are yours. I should like you to run your eye over them, and see that they are correct, if you don't mind.
Podb. (stuffing them in his pocket). Can't be bothered now. Take your word for it.
Culch. No-but considering that we start the first thing to-morrow morning, wouldn't it be as well to have some idea of where you're going? And, by the way, excuse me, but is it altogether prudent to keep your tickets in an outside pocket like that? I always keep mine, with my money, in a special case in an inner pocket, with a buttoned flap-then I know I can't lose them.
Podb. Anything for a quiet life! (He examines his coupons.) Dover to Ostend? Never been there-like to see what Ostend's like. But why didn't you go by Calais?-shorter, you know.
Culch. Because I thought we'd see Bruges and Ghent on our way to Brussels.
Podb. Bruges, eh? Capital! Anything particular going on there? No? It don't matter. And Ghent-let's see, wasn't that where they brought the good news from? Yes, we'll stop at Ghent-if we've time. Then-Brussels? Good deal of work to be done there, I suppose, sightseeing, and that? I like a place where you can moon about without being bothered myself; now, at Brussels-never mind, I was only thinking.
Culch. It's the best place to get to Cologne and up the Rhine from. Then, you see, we go rather out of our way to Nuremberg--
Podb. Where they make toys? I know-pretty festive there, eh?
Culch. I don't know about festive-but it is-er-a quaint, and highly interesting old place. Then I thought we'd dip down to Constance, and strike across the Alps to the Italian Lakes.
Podb. Italian Lakes? First-rate! Yes, they're worth seeing, I suppose. Think they're better than the Swiss ones, though?
Culch. (tolerantly). I can get the coupons changed for Switzerland if you prefer it. The Swiss Lakes may be the more picturesque.
Podb. Yes, we'll do Switzerland-and run back by Paris, eh? Not much to do in Switzerland, though, after all!
Culch. (with a faintly superior smile). There are one or two mountains, I believe. But, personally, I should prefer Italy.
Podb. So should I. No fun in mountains-unless you go up 'em. What do you think of choosing some quiet place, where nobody ever goes-say in France or Germany-and, sticking to that. More of a rest, wouldn't it be? such a bore having to know a lot of people!
Culch. I don't see how we can change all the tickets, really. If you like, we could stop a week at St. Goarshausen.
Podb. What's St. Goarshausen like-cheery?
Culch. I understood the idea was to keep away from our fellow countrymen, and as far as I can remember St. Goarshausen, it is not overrun with tourists-we should be quiet enough there.
Podb. That's the place for me, then. Or could we push on to Vienna? Never seen Vienna.
Culch. If you like to give up Italy altogether.
Podb. What do you say to beginning with Italy and working back? Too hot, eh? Well, then, we'll let things be as they are-I dare say it will do well enough. So that's settled!
Culch. (to himself on parting, after final arrangements concluded). I wish Rose had warned me that Podbury's habit of mind was so painfully desultory. (He sighs.) However--
Podb. (to himself). Wonder how long I shall take to get over Culchard's manner. (He sighs.) I wish old Hughie was coming-he'd give me a leg over! [He walks on thoughtfully.
* * *
Thomas Anstey Guthrie (8 August 1856 - 10 March 1934) was an English novelist and journalist, who wrote his comic novels under the pseudonym F. Anstey. He was born in Kensington, London, to Augusta Amherst Austen, an organist and composer, and Thomas Anstey Guthrie.
Lindsey's fiancé was the devil's first son. Not only did he lie to her but he also slept with her stepmother, conspired to take away her family fortune, and then set her up to have sex with a total stranger. To get her lick back, Lindsey decided to find a man to disrupt her engagement party and humiliate the cheating bastard. Never did she imagine that she would bump into a strikingly handsome stranger who was all that she was currently looking for. At the engagement party, he boldly declared that she was his woman. Lindsey thought he was just a broke man who wanted to leech off her. But once they began their fake relationship, she realized that good luck kept coming her way. She thought they would part ways after the engagement party, but this man kept to her side. "We gotta stick together, Lindsey. Remember, I'm now your fiancé. " "Domenic, you're with me because of my money, aren't you?" Lindsey asked, narrowing her eyes at him. Domenic was taken aback by that accusation. How could he, the heir of the Walsh family and CEO of Vitality Group, be with her for money? He controlled more than half of the city's economy. Money wasn't a problem for him! The two got closer and closer. One day, Lindsey finally realized that Domenic was actually the stranger she had slept with months ago. Would this realization change things between them? For the better or worse?
"Ahh!" She was in a moaning mess. She did not want to feel anything for this man. She hated him. His hands began to move all over her body. She gasped when he pulled down the back chain of her dress. The chain stopped at her lower waist, so when he zipped it off, her upper back and waist were exposed. "D-Don't touch m-ummm!" His fingers rolled around her bare back, and she pressed her head against the pillow. His touches were giving her goosebumps all over her body. With a deep angry voice, he whispered in her ear, "I am going to make you forget his touches, kisses, and everything. Every time you touch another man, you will only think of me." - - - Ava Adler was a nerdy omega. People bullied her because they thought she was ugly and unattractive. But Ava secretly loved the bad boy, Ian Dawson. He was the future Alpha of the Mystic Shadow Pack. However, he doesn't give a damn about rules and laws, as he only likes to play around with girls. Ava was unaware of Ian's arrogance until her fate intertwined with his. He neglected her and hurt her deeply. What would happen when Ava turned out to be a beautiful girl who could win over any boy, and Ian looked back and regretted his decisions? What if she had a secret identity that she had yet to discover? What if the tables turned and Ian begged her not to leave him?
On their wedding night, Rogelio wrapped his fingers around Marian's neck and spat at her, "Congratulations! From now on, you live in hell!" The reason for his wrath was that he believed she was responsible for the death of his elder brother. So, he married her but refused to touch her, determined to make her suffer for the rest of her pitiful life! However, due to an unforeseen accident, Marian was forced to sleep with Rogelio in order to save him, and she ended up getting pregnant. Concealing her pregnancy, Marian lived cautiously under Rogelio's watchful eyes. He hated her and relentlessly humiliated her, yet he would never allow anyone else to lay a finger on her— "Mr. Bailey, your wife got into a fight with someone!" Rogelio secretly took action, eliminating that person completely. "Sir, your wife claimed that all of your family's wealth belongs to her!" Rogelio quietly transferred all the shares to her. Unaware of all this, Marian only wanted to escape, but Rogelio pulled her into his warm embrace, whispering, "Mrs. Bailey, where do you intend to go with our unborn child?"
After three loveless years, Neil's betrayal deeply wounded Katelyn. She wasted no time in getting rid of that scoundrel! After the divorce, she devoted herself to career pursuits. Rising to prominence as a top designer, skilled doctor, and brilliant hacker, she became a revered icon. Neil, realizing his grave mistake, tried in vain to win her back, only to witness her magnificent wedding to another. As their vows were broadcast on the world's largest billboard, Vincent slid a ring onto Katelyn's finger and declared, "Katelyn is now my wife, a priceless treasure. Let all who covet her beware!"
Rumors said that Lucas married an unattractive woman with no background. In the three years they were together, he remained cold and distant to Belinda, who endured in silence. Her love for him forced her to sacrifice her self-worth and her dreams. When Lucas' true love reappeared, Belinda realized that their marriage was a sham from the start, a ploy to save another woman's life. She signed the divorce papers and left. Three years later, Belinda returned as a surgical prodigy and a maestro of the piano. Lost in regret, Lucas chased her in the rain and held her tightly. "You are mine, Belinda."
Everyone was shocked to the bones when the news of Rupert Benton's engagement broke out. It was surprising because the lucky girl was said to be a plain Jane, who grew up in the countryside and had nothing to her name. One evening, she showed up at a banquet, stunning everyone present. "Wow, she's so beautiful!" All the men drooled, and the women got so jealous. What they didn't know was that this so-called country girl was actually an heiress to a billion-dollar empire. It wasn't long before her secrets came to light one after the other. The elites couldn't stop talking about her. "Holy smokes! So, her father is the richest man in the world?" "She's also that excellent, but mysterious designer who many people adore! Who would have guessed?" Nonetheless, people thought that Rupert didn't love her. But they were in for another surprise. Rupert released a statement, silencing all the naysayers. "I'm very much in love with my beautiful fiancee. We will be getting married soon." Two questions were on everyone's minds: "Why did she hide her identity? And why was Rupert in love with her all of a sudden?"