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But his own father accused him." Appleton leaned forward in his chair and brought his fist down upon the desk-top. "I don't give a damn who accused him!" he cried. "That boy never stole a bond, or any other thing, and I'll stake my last cent on it!" "Oh, it isn't the bonds. Ethel does not believe he stole them. But the other you heard what the guide said and Ethel heard it.
Banneker," muttered the editor. His right hand moved slowly, stealthily, toward a lower drawer. "Cut it, Major!" implored Con in acute anguish. "Canche' see he's gotche' covered through his pocket!" The stealthy hand returned to the sight of all men and fussed among some papers on the desk-top. Major Bussey said peevishly: "What do you want with me?" "Kill that paragraph." "What par "
"E. K. 'Now he taketh the white garment, and putteth it on him.... Now he sitteth down on the desk-top and looketh toward me.... He seemeth now to be turned to a woman, and the very same which we call Galvah."
"Why, yes," he answered, pushing towards her the chair he had not offered to Waters and erupting forthwith into uneasy volubility. "This is it. Sit down, madam; sit right down and tell me what I can do for you." The girl, still smiling, took the seat he gave her; across the desk-top, Waters, unmoving, his battered hand grasping his peaked Russian cap, gazed upon her absorbedly.
"Can't be done, eh?" exclaimed Flint, warmly, sitting down on the desk-top and levelling a big-jointed forefinger at his partner. "That's what every new idea has had to meet. It's no argument! People scoffed at the idea of gas lighting when it was new. Called it 'burning smoke, and made merry over it. That was as recently as 1832. But ten years later, gas-illumination was in full sway.
Sister Soulsby drummed for an absent moment with her thin, nervous fingers on the desk-top. "I guess maybe you'd better go and lie down again," she said gently. "You're a sick man, still, and it's no good your worrying your head just now with things of this sort. You'll see them differently when you're quite yourself again." "No, no," pleaded Theron. "Do let us have our talk out! I'm all right.
They don't complain: they don't cry and say it's cruel. They know it's the rule of the game. They accept it and begin at once looking out for a new set of fools and weaklings to recoup themselves on. That's the way the City goes." Thorpe had concluded his philosophical remarks with ruminative slowness. As he lapsed into silence now, he fell to studying his own hands on the desk-top before him.
Thorpe had listened to these apathetic sentences without much interest, but the sum of their message appeared suddenly to catch his attention. He sat upright, and after a moment's frowning brown study, looked sharply up at his sister. "What was his name?" he asked with abruptness. "I don't in the least remember," she made answer, holding the desk-top up, but temporarily suspending her search.
Don't we want to do something a big thing, too that will be a credit to ourselves and a real adornment to our city?" Jeremiah puckered up his mouth and slowly blinked his little red eyes. "I've had one or two of those young painter fellows after me lately," he said in ruminative tone, as he picked at the green baize of his desk-top.
Blaine, with an expression of sharp inquiry, had whirled around in his swivel chair to face his excited visitor, and as he did so, his hand, with seeming inadvertence, had for an instant come in contact with the under ledge of his desk-top.
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