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Thank you for checking out this book by Theophania Publishing. We appreciate your business and look forward to serving you soon. We have thousands of titles available, and we invite you to search for us by name, contact us via our website, or download our most recent catalogues. "Of course he's a wretch, dear; but oh!"—with an ecstatic expression—"what a nice wretch!" "I see; you marry the adjective." "The man, Beatrice, the man. Give me a real man and I ask for nothing better. But the genuine male is so difficult to find nowadays." "Really! Then you have been more successful than the…mehr

Produktbeschreibung
Thank you for checking out this book by Theophania Publishing. We appreciate your business and look forward to serving you soon. We have thousands of titles available, and we invite you to search for us by name, contact us via our website, or download our most recent catalogues. "Of course he's a wretch, dear; but oh!"—with an ecstatic expression—"what a nice wretch!" "I see; you marry the adjective." "The man, Beatrice, the man. Give me a real man and I ask for nothing better. But the genuine male is so difficult to find nowadays." "Really! Then you have been more successful than the majority." "How sarcastic, how unfriendly! I did look for sympathy." Beatrice embraced her companion affectionately. "You have it, Dinah. I give all sympathy and all good wishes to yourself and Jerry. May you be very happy as Mr. and Mrs. Snow!" "Oh, we shall, we shall! Jerry would make an undertaker happy!" "Undertakers generally are—when business is good." "Oh! you are quite too up-to-date in your talk, Beatrice Hedge." "That is strange, seeing how I live in a dull country garden like a snail, or a cabbage." "Like a wild rose, dear. At least Vivian would say so." "Mr. Paslow says more than he means," responded Beatrice, blushing redder than the flower mentioned, "and I dare say Jerry does also." "No, dear. Jerry hasn't sufficient imagination." "He ought to have, being a journalist."
Autorenporträt
Ferguson Wright Hume, also known as Fergus Hume, was a prolific English novelist who wrote detective fiction, thrillers, and mysteries. Hume was born in Powick, Worcestershire, England, as the second son of James C. Hume, a Scot who worked as a clerk and steward at the county pauper and lunatic asylum. When he was three, his family moved to Dunedin, New Zealand, where he attended Otago Boys' High School and studied law at the University of Otago. He was admitted to the New Zealand Bar in 1885. Hume moved to Melbourne, Australia, shortly after graduating and began working as a barristers' clerk. He began writing plays but was unable to persuade Melbourne theatre managers to approve, let alone read them. Hume returned to England, first in London, then in Thundersley, Essex, at Church Cottage, most likely on the invitation of the Reverend Thomas Noon Talfourd Major. Hume resided in Thundersley for thirty years, producing over 130 novels and various collections, the most of which were mystery stories, although he never regained the fame of his debut novel. He also wrote lyrics for songs written by his brother-in-law, Charles Willeby, and book reviews for literary periodicals such as The Bookman. The 1911 census shows him as 'author', aged 51, and living at Church Cottage, Thundersley, which comprised of six rooms. He had a housekeeper, Ada Louise Peck, a widow aged 69. He made regular trips to Italy, France, Switzerland, and other European countries.