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"I'm Mart Haney you remember Mart Haney." Siegel grasped the situation. "Sure! Vy, how you vass dis dime, eh! Vell, vell you gome pack in style, ain't it? Your daughter yes?" "My wife," said Haney. Siegel raised a fat arm, which a dirty blue undershirt imperfectly draped, and Bertha shook hands with curt politeness. "Vell, vell, Mart, you must haff struck a cold-mine by now, hah?" "That's what."
Higgins. Mrs. Higgins, who was an elderly widow, 'well left', reflected with complacency that Mrs. Parrot's observation was no more than just, and that Mrs. Jennings very likely belonged to a family which had had no funerals to speak of. Even dirty Dame Fripp, who was a very rare church-goer, had been to Mrs.
The pig was still under the bed, and the hens over it. The concrete floor was as dirty as the mud one had been. The panes of the windows were broken, and the garden was full of weeds. The landlord wrote to a friend in despair. The friend replied, "You have begun at the wrong end. You ought to have taught them the value of cleanliness, thriftiness, and comfort."
In the morning a dozen saleswomen from a nearby department store, having purposely arrived too early, gathered around his kiosk to enjoy the dirty jokes and cheerful comments of Mr. Mechenmal.
We know, of course, it can't," explained the marquis in a tone of conscious lucidity; "but you take the chance, and are willing at any rate to show that you yourself have dirty hands." "That's a good comparison; at least half of it is," said Newman. "I take the chance of something sticking. But as regards my hands, they are clean. I have taken the matter up with my finger-tips."
"I'll get that out of her or know the reason why. They've poisoned her against me, that's about how it is in a nutshell. I'll get that pouting to be in that dirty Harlem hole with her mother and grandmother out of her or know the reason why." "She " "Look, this is the front hall. Guess this 'ain't got that sty in Twenty-third Street beat some. Look! How do you like it?
"Wages?" Whitney flushed with anger. "No, if the dirty dogs wish to leave us in the lurch without notice, they will not get one cent from me." "They won't leave us," declared Kathleen. "At least, I am sure that Vincent and Rosa will not go. They have been with us too long." "I only know what Henry told me he heard in the kitchen this morning," explained Mrs. Whitney.
"You must be dressed by half past eleven, and you can tuck your hair up under that red nightcap; but you must manage to dirty your face, neck, and hands. You really ought to have some brown stain, but I don't suppose it is to be got. I will speak to Mr. Parrot." "There is no stain, that I know of," Mr. Parrot said; "but I know Mr. Logie paints a little.
"Here, clear the road!" he cried banteringly. "Make way, you dirty blackguards, for my lords. Lie down, some of you, and let 'em walk over you. Lost your way, my lords? Why didn't you come in your carriages, with horse soldiers before and behind? But it's no use to-day; the Lord Mayor's gone out to dinner with his wife."
At a certain moment, with each new generation of girls, there comes an epidemical desire in maiden bosoms to dedicate their sweet young lives to the service of what Esther called "horrible dirty people." At these periods the hospitals are flooded with applications from young girls whom the vernal equinox urges first to be mothers, and, failing motherhood, nurses.
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