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Her mind left the subject and flitted on. "Why don't you live with him?" "Why don't I board in a Methodist parsonage?" "You cra-azy!" Again she made a little clicking sound to express disapproval. Anthony thought how moral was this little waif at heart how completely moral she would still be after the inevitable wave came that would wash her off the sands of respectability. "Do you hate him?"

"Thank you," said the Northerner, "I hardly think Do you suppose Major Garnet's firing those last two shots after " "Will ruin him? O Lawd, not that! We all know, and always have, that he's perfectly cra-azy when he's enra-aged. No, my deah seh, Miz Proudfit has confessed! She says " "Are you not surprised that Major Garnet was armed?" Fair interrupted.

"I sincerely trust that I won't live that long." She clicked her tongue with her teeth. "You cra-azy!" she said as he mixed another cocktail and then: "Are you any relation to Adam Patch?" "Yes, he's my grandfather." "Really?" She was obviously thrilled. "Absolutely." "That's funny. My daddy used to work for him." "He's a queer old man." "Is he nice?" she demanded.

She quickened her speed, leaning forward to read more surely: "Uh-uh! my ba-a-aaby, You drive me cra-azy, Uh-uh! quit shovin', I'm only lov in'." The words running along to a stuttering syncopation that filled her with self-disgust as she sang them. But she finished with quite a flourish, swinging around on the stool to face him. "You need ragging up, kiddo. You've the speed of a funeral march."