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Again the little girl ran forward. "Come ... speak to my Moms; she is crying." It was across the cabin from Miko. Coniston had appeared from the deck; it created a slight diversion. He joined Miko. "Wait," I said to Moa. "She is afraid of you. This is humanity." I pushed Moa back. I followed the child. I had seen that Venza was sitting with the child's weeping mother.
Miriam Sopinsky, dim with years and the kind of weariness of the flesh that Rembrandt knew so well, her face even yellower beneath the black wig with the bold row of machine-stitching down its center, the hands veiny and often uncertain among the dishes. "Roody, cut up mamma's chicken for her. She trembles so." "Moms, let Williams." "No; she likes it when your father does it." Mr.
That's how much I know he's the finest man in the world. Now then! Now then!" There was a note in Miss Pelz's voice that, in the ensuing silence, seemed actually to ring against the frail crystal. She was on her feet, head up, tears drying. "Blee-Bleema!" "Moms darling, aren't you happy? Isn't it wonderful moms?" "Roody! For God's sake, Bleema, you're choking your father to death!
Besides, I only want to see him for a minute. You know I haven't been in town since school closed. The train goes in twenty minutes, and I'll come back with Syd. Please, moms." "All right, Rex, you may go, but remember I trust you not to annoy Sydney. You will find my purse in my top bureau drawer, left hand corner." "You are the best mother a boy ever had."
And that was because there had been no provision made on the little old steamer for this invasion of casual Breedes. Pops and Moms had secured an officer's room; the Demon, rather than sit up in the smoking-room of nights, had consented to share the flapper's suite; and Bean had been taken in charge by a cold-blooded steward who left him in the narrow quarters of the Hartford person.
"Oh, that's all right, Mrs. Pelz. I'll stay around and be entertained by you and Mr. "I'll be back in twenty minutes, moms. Surely you'll excuse me that long! I want to drive him down in my new runabout. I promised. Please, moms! Dad?" "Ask your papa, Bleema; I I don't know " "Dad?" "You heard what I said, Bleema. No!" A quick film of tears formed over Miss Pelz's eyes, her lips quivering.
Men appraised silently the pliant lay of shirt, the uncrawling coat-back, and the absence of that fatal divorce of trousers and waistcoat. "I was telling my husband, Lester, my manicurist just raved to-day about you and Norma Beautiful in 'The Lure of Silk." "Isn't that just the sweetest picture, moms?" "It certainly is! Mr.
"Hello, moms!" in the little lifted voice trained to modulation, and kissing Mrs. Pelz in light consideration of powdered areas. "Hello, dads!" tiptoeing and pursing her mouth into a bud. "Good evening, Mr. Feist." "Looks like I'm the left-over in this party," said Mr. Feist, slow to release her hand and wanting not to redden.
Yetsko was reaching up to lock the door of his cubicle; he seemed surprised at Prestonby's obtuseness. "Day before election; the little darlings' moms and pops don't want them out running around. We can look for another big crowd tomorrow, too." Prestonby gave a snort of disgust. "Of course; how imbecilic can I really get?
Poor old Pops would give it to me now if I asked him but it's just as well to have it away in case Moms could ever make him change his mind, only of course she perfectly well can't do anything of the sort. But anyway I'm sending it to that shop around the corner in the street below you, and they'll hold it there to your order.
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