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"I'd rather write out conundrums than anything else," said Curtis Park, seeing some answer was expected. "Good!" Mrs. Sterling beamed on him. "Does any other boy have something to propose?" "Puzzles," said Frick decidedly. "I'd a great deal rather have puzzles; conundrums are just horrid." "Two things to choose from," and Mrs. Sterling laughed.
It was in the very commencement of things Joel noticed that every one of the members seemed to take a fancy to Jack. Curtis Park leaned over from his chair. "I say, Frick, change places with me." Frick was next to the visitor, Joel, of course, being on his other side. "No, you don't," said Frick, not over politely.
She pointed tragically up to the big clock. "And I promised to be at Alexia's " The last words came back to him as she disappeared out to the veranda and down the steps, racing off as hard as she could. Frick got off from his chair, took three or four steps hopelessly, then stiffened up.
The papers and the market letters one morning said it was 'Standard Oil'; the next, that it was Morgan; then it was Frick, Schwab, Gates, and so on down through the list. Of course, none of them denied; it is capital to all these knights of the road to be making millions in the minds of the world, even though they never get any of the money.
He shows an even less regard for Mr. Lodge's talents. And he is doubtful of Mr. Hughes. His attitude towards the Secretary of State dates back to the insurance scandals. At that time Mr. Frick asked Mr. Knox to make an investigation and suggest a course of action to avert a national disaster. This Mr. Knox did in his thorough and painstaking way. A little later, when Mr.
He began to wear his Frat pin on his undershirt, and he had no time to frivol away on the fluffy Gender, because he expected to be sitting in the Directors' Room in a couple of years, talking it over with Henry C. Frick. So he waved aside the Square Envelopes and allowed himself to be billed all over the Macaroon Circuit as a Woman-Hater.
King turned briskly to his writing again "or I shall be as bad as Frick eh, Joel?" and he laughed gayly. "Now trot back and go at your task again."
'Well, what did you do about it? 'Nothing particular. Oh yes; I did. I wrote down the address of one or two. Emma Sinfield, Maude Frick, Annie Crutcher, and Mary Garstin. Which shall I have, Anne which name do you like best? 'Emma Sinfield, I think, or if she doesn't do, I rather fancy Garstin. Where does Emma live? 'In the Cromwell Road. We ought to go and ask for her character today.
The story of the shooting of Henry C. Frick by Alexander Berkman is briefly referred to in the first chapter, but the events which led up to that shooting have well-nigh been forgotten.
"Joel hasn't been with us," blurted out Frick, Then he leaned against the big writing-table, speech all gone, for he began to feel terribly tired, and it had been nothing but one long disappointment all day. Old Mr. King laid down his pen and looked Frick all over.
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