This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1922 Excerpt: ... says I. "Then it's all off?" "No," says Barry. "He's sending an assistant of his--T. Temple Fogg--a young college hick who's been in the ad. department, but has wormed his way into handling some of the press stuff. I remember seeing him when I was on the staff. Looks like a poor prune. Thinks he's a whizz as a writer, ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1922 Excerpt: ... says I. "Then it's all off?" "No," says Barry. "He's sending an assistant of his--T. Temple Fogg--a young college hick who's been in the ad. department, but has wormed his way into handling some of the press stuff. I remember seeing him when I was on the staff. Looks like a poor prune. Thinks he's a whizz as a writer, though. Lord knows what he'll turn out. But it'll be better than nothing. He'll be there at four o'clock. Wish I could be on hand to help you out with him. I'll see if I can't get Ames Hunt to run up. Doubt it, though. So long. Best of luck." So I was in for it. I was going to be plugged in, as the 'phone girls say, on the public press, with a direct wire to the ear of Old Subscriber, Pro Bono and A Mother of Four, not to mention a million Smiths and half the Cohens. And I was expected to talk for their amusement and instruction. Me! Say, as I sat thinking that over I was caught by a wave of modesty that came rushing in from space and had me floundering about panicky. I got up and paced around the apartment restless. "You want him to come quick, eh?" asks Inez, watching me curious. "I do, and then again I don't," says I. "Maybe you never waited for the dentist? No. Then you can't appreciate the sensation." Even at that the wretch was nearly half an hour late. But finally I heard the buzzer ring and Annette came in to announce that Mr. Fogg was in the sitting room. "What does he look like, Annette?" I asked. "Oh, he ain't such a much," says she. Annette isn't such a poor describer, either. There was nothing awesome or impressive about T. Temple Fogg. That is, unless you count the black pompadour which sprouted from his pallid brow and waved in heavy magnificence ov...
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Seller's Description:
Fine in Near Fine jacket. First edition. Illustrations by Marshall Frantz. Fine in an attractive, very good or better dustwrapper with some modest stains. Humorous novel of an idiosyncratic and zany couple; the husband crashes into the theatre. Scarce in jacket.
