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The smile was still in them, but there was a keen speculation in them, too. "You can't blame me, boy," he said, with perfect amiability. "Hand me all the stuff I'm asking, and your market's as sacred as a woman's virtue. But you don't hand it me, or maybe you can't. Well, it's up to me to supply my needs any way I know. There's nothing crooked in that.
You're always runnin' to the woodshed to hide your nickels in a crack because some fool newspaper says the market's a little skeery! You listen to every street-corner croaker and then come and set here and try to scare ME out of a big thing! We're IN on this understand? I tell you there never WAS better times. These are good times and big times, and I won't stand for any other kind o' talk.
But, the market's self-healing powers aside, can anything be done can any policy be implemented to reverse the deteriorating balance of payments? In a testimony he gave to the Senate in May, O'Neill proffered one of his inimitable metaphors: "All the interventions that have been modeled would do damage to the U.S. economy if we decided to reduce the size of the current account deficit.
A few industrials began to rocket, nobody knew why; but the market's first tremor left it baggy and spineless, and the reaction, already overdue, became a sodden and soggy slump. Nobody knew why. The noise of the fray in the papers, which had first excited then stunned the outside public, continued in a delirium of rumour, report, forecast, and summing up at the week's end.
The town seemed very quiet and deserted as Molly and Sylvia entered the dark, irregular Bridge Street, and the market-place was as empty of people as before. But the skeps and baskets and three-legged stools were all cleared away. 'Market's over for to-day, said Molly Corney, in disappointed surprise. 'We mun make the best on't, and sell to t' huxters, and a hard bargain they'll be for driving.
As to your helping Minott, what I've got to say to you is just this: let the other fellow walk the fellow Garry owes money to but don't you butt in. They'll only laugh at you. Now you will have to excuse me the market's kiting, and I've got to watch it. Give my love to Ruth. Your aunt and I will be out on the noon train for the funeral. Good-by." It was what he had expected.
When Edmonds came in he turned to the money-lender with anxiety in his face. "Well?" he questioned brusquely. "Market's a little stiffer," said Edmonds. Edmonds sat down and stretched out his hand toward the cigar-box on the table, while Hawtrey waited with very evident impatience. "Still moving up?" he asked. Edmonds nodded. "It's the other folks' last stand," he declared.
They couldn't do much; they used to put it on the market raw. But lately they got to baking it, and now they've struck a vein of natural gas right by their works, and they pay ten cents for fuel, where I pay a dollar, and they make as good a paint. Anybody can see where it's going to end. Besides, the market's over-stocked. It's glutted.
Durance was a Saturday meat market's butcher in the Satiric Art. Nesta found it pleasanter to see him than to hear of his work: which, to her present feeling, was inhuman.
The market's full of just such beauty in health and strength beauty matured and alive, not wilted like this! ... But every fish to its net, every man to his fate, as the infidels on the other shore say. To the cistern she must go, and I must put her there. Oh, how lucky! Her wits are out prayers, tears, resistance would be uncomfortable. May the Saints keep her!"
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