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If I c-can't have my fun out of life I d-don't want to live at all. I'm not going to Heaven to make up for it Mr. Ricardo has just told us that so what's the use? You've g-got your work and that satisfies you. Mine doesn't satisfy me. So when you t-talk about me you're just t-talking through your hat." Miss Edwards threw up her hands in mock horror. "Oh, my angel child, what a temper!

William Wetherell, who was looking out of the window, drew his breath, and even Jethro drew back with an exclamation at the change wrought in her. But Cynthia snatched the roll from his hand and wound it up with a feminine deftness. "Wh-what's the matter, Cynthy?" "Oh, I can't wear that, Uncle Jethro," she said. "C-can't wear it! Why not?"

She glanced up once or twice impatiently. Once, looking at her apologetically he said: "I keep worrying about those bally cigarettes, old thing." She saw that his finger-nails, which three weeks' sanity had mended, were bitten and gnawed to bleeding again. "I c-can't h-help it, girlie." She felt raked up and nervous, too.

"How can we hear the mirth While some loved reveller of a year ago Keeps his mute Christmas now beneath the snow, In cold Virginia earth " Her voice suddenly broke; she laughed, slightly hysterical, the tears glittering in her eyes. "I c-can't read it, somehow. . . . Forgive me, everybody, I think I'm tired " "Nerves," said West cheerily. "It'll all come right in a moment, Mrs. Paige.

He was crazy drunk and ha-ha-half blind with blood where Dic knocked him, and he didn't know who f-f-fired the shot." "But suppose he should know?" "B-but he won't know, I-I tell ye. I-I t-trust you; c-can't you trust Patsy? I-I'm not as big a f-fool as I look. I-I let p-people think I'm a fool because when p-people think you're a f-fool, it's lots easier t-t-to work 'em. See?"

"I-I want yer t-t-ter love me." "No comprende, señor." "O-oh, yes yer do. L-Lord! didn't I t-tell it all ter yer s-s-straight 'nough last n-night? Maybe I ain't m-much on ther t-talk, but I r-reckon I sh-sh-shot that all right. C-can't yer make over th-that like inter l-love somehow?"

Look how they rush and flap and spatter! That's amusing, isn't it for people with the intellects of canaries. . . . Will you please try to say something? Mrs. T. West is exhibiting the restless symptoms of a hen turkey at sundown and we'll all go to roost in another minute. . . . Don't shiver that way!" "I c-can't control it; I will in a moment. . . . Give me a chance; talk to me, Phil."

Stepping quickly into the kitchen, the visitor stood there with face white and haggard, and his whole body trembling. "What's wrong, Tom?" the captain asked. "Ye look most scared to death." "S-S-Sammy's hurt," was the gasping reply. "He f-fell and broke his l-leg, and I'm afraid his n-neck, too." "Why don't ye go fer the doctor, then?" the captain queried. "I c-can't.

"Not another soul shall ever know," said Barnabas earnestly, "the world shall be none the wiser if you will promise to stop, now, to free yourself from Chichester's influence, now, to let me help you to redeem the past. Promise me this, and I, as your friend, will tear up this damning evidence here and now." "And if I c-can't?"

"Well, you can't be seein' him." "C-can't see him? What do you mean?" "I mean he ain't here, that's what. He's out. He's went out for the night. He's ginerally always out on Friday nights playin' cards at his club, I think. And sometimes he don't come in till it's near breakfast time. If you're a friend of his I sh'd think it'd be likely you'd know that same." "Oh, I do I do," assented Mr.