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The surroundings were crude compared with the Truax & Fein office, but she was excited. Here she would be a pioneer. "Now come in the other room," said Mr. Sidney, "and meet the stenographers and the publicity man I was telling you about on the 'phone." He opened a door and said, "Mrs. Schwirtz, wantcha shake hands with the fellow that's going to help you to put the Line on the map Mr. Babson."
"Wantcha!" said Breede. There was a fateful, trembling moment in which Breede was like to have been blasted; it was as if the magnate had wantonly affronted him who had once been the recipient of a second funeral in Paris. Keeping Bean from a ball game aroused that one-time self of his as perhaps nothing else would have done.
The other two agreed. "Good idea." "Hey, Sammy, wantcha do somep'm for us...." Just after nine o'clock Anthony staggered to his feet and, bidding them a thick good night, walked unsteadily to the door, handing Sammy one of his two quarters as he passed out.
The trouser-seat remained where it was deaf to its child's cry. "Pa! Commere! Wantcha!" The trousers did not even quiver. But this girl was a girl of decision. There was some nautical implement resting in a rack convenient to her hand. It was long, solid, and constructed of one of the harder forms of wood.
I gotcha good and hard now right where I wantcha an' ye won't " Bang! Click! Billy had been lying among the thick undergrowth, flat on his back, his left arm flung above his head, but his right arm was thrust out from his body under a thick clump of laurel, and his right hand held the gun ready for any emergency when he inadvertently went to sleep.
The trouser-seat remained where it was, deaf to its child's cry. "Pa! Cummere! Wantcha!" The trousers did not even quiver. But this girl was a girl of decision. There was some nautical implement resting in a rack convenient to her hand. It was long, solid, and constructed of one of the harder forms of wood.
After all, he was Bunker Bean, a poor thing who had to fly when Breede growled "Wantcha." He sat at his table, staring moodily into vacancy. He idly speculated about Breede's ragged moustache; he thought it had been blasted and killed by the words Breede spoke. A moment later he was conscious that he stared at an unopened letter on the table before him.
His spirits were rising. "J" stated the operator patiently. "Well, jay then," said Billy, "WhaddoIcare?" "Just-a-minute-please," and suddenly the Chief's voice boomed out reassuringly. Billy cast a furtive eye back of him in the dusk and fell to his business with relief. "Say, Chief, that you? This's Bill! Say, Chief, I wantcha he'p right away pretty quick! Got a line on those guys!
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