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"You can't get it at all for any such purpose. How do you know it's a fake?" "How do I know? Oh, dammit! I'M Luther Pruyn!" He snatched off his glasses and faced them. The little group stood petrified. Mr. Brewster was first to recover. "Crazy, poor chap!" he said. "Luther Pruyn was my classmate." "That's my father, Luther L." "Proofs," said Sherwen sharply. "In my coat pocket. In the room.
If he spoke out? His people would not understand him. They would think he was mad. They would be sorry, dammit. Sorry for him! Why, he is not sorry for himself. He can stand it now he knows what it is like. He can stand it if they can.
Such a jolly menage as Strong's, with Grady's Irish stew, and the chevalier's brew of punch after dinner, would have been welcome to many a better man than Clavering, the solitude of whose great house at home frightened him, where he was attended only by the old woman who kept the house, and his valet who sneered at him. "Yes, dammit," said he, to his friends in Shepherd's Inn.
"Never mind Jessie. I've got something to tell you, Chief. I'm leaving you this voyage." Macandrew was instantly annoyed. "Going? Dammit, you can't. Look at the crowd I've got now. You mustn't do it." "I must. They are a thin lot, but you could push the old Medea along with anything. I've got another ship. My reason is very good, from the way I look at it." Hanson turned his grin to me.
I couldn't let 'em go with all the rest so I er had 'em brought here, to er to keep them for you ready for the time when you should grow tired of digging, and come back to me, and er oh, dammit! you understand and Grainger's waiting to see you in the library been there hours so dress yourself. In Heaven's name, dress yourself!" he cried, and hurried from the room.
He burst out: "Dammit, Harlan, I can see where you're going to land in this State if you'll let your old gramp have free rein! And the right kind of a wife is half the battle in what you're going into." "Have you got that right kind picked out for me along with the rest? You talk as though you had." It was said almost in the tone of insult.
You know what that would do to me, in town. I just can't get mixed up in this, at all. I want you to see to it that I don't." "That sounds like a large order." The ash was growing on Rand's cigar; he took another heavy drag at it. "But why necessarily you? Rivers had plenty of other enemies." "Yes, but, dammit, they weren't all in his shop, last evening. Just me. And one other.
"I mean to say I know you're going to marry whoever you please... but won't you marry me? Sally, for God's sake have a dash at it! I've been keeping it in all this time because it seemed rather rotten to bother you about it, but now....Oh, dammit, I wish I could put it into words. I always was rotten at talking.
Here you are, asking me questions as if you thought I had killed my own wife! What I want is results, not a lot of hot air and bluff!" He snapped his fingers under Bristow's nose. "Why, dammit!" he shrilled. "Haven't you any idea yet where to look for the murderer? Are you groping around here helplessly after all this time? Dammit! I want a real detective on this job, and I'm going to get one."
"Times have changed," remarked Mr. Pollock blandly. "It wasn't so very long ago that women Said 'pshaw' when they wanted to let off steam. Then they got to saying 'shucks, and from that they progressed to 'darn, and now they say 'damn' without a quiver. Only yesterday I heard my wife say something that sounded suspiciously like 'dammit to hell' when she upset a bottle of ink on her desk.
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