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utmost cunning could have contrived. In a year or so the inn was known
both up and down the river by its new name of "Omlets," and Mr. Polly,
after some secret irritation, smiled and was content. And the fat
woman's omelettes were things to remember.
(You will note I have changed her epithet. Time works upon us all.)
She stood upon the steps as he came towards the house, and smiled at
him richly.
"
"
Caught many?" she asked.
Got an idea," said Mr. Polly. "Would it put you out very much if I
went off for a day or two for a bit of a holiday? There won't be much
doing now until Thursday."
II
Feeling recklessly secure behind his beard Mr. Polly surveyed the
Fishbourne High Street once again. The north side was much as he had
known it except that Rusper had vanished. A row of new shops replaced
the destruction of the great fire. Mantell and Throbson's had risen
again upon a more flamboyant pattern, and the new fire station was in
the Swiss-Teutonic style and with much red paint. Next door in the
place of Rumbold's was a branch of the Colonial Tea Company, and then
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