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Gwen sat beside her on the bed-edge, her arm round her head on its pillow, her free hand soothing the restless fingers that would not be still. "What is it you think you have dreamed, Mrs. Picture dear?" said she. "It was all a dream, I think. Just a mad dream but then but then did not my Ruth think I was mad?..." "But what was it? Tell it to me, now, quietly."
A voluminous garment, fold and fold upon itself, but sheer and crisp dimity, even streaming a length of pink ribbon, lay across the bed-edge. Miss Hoag took it up, her hand already slowly and tiredly at the business of unfettering herself of the monstrous red silk. Came a sudden avalanche of knocking and a rattling of door-knob, the voice of Mrs. Bostrum. landlady, high with panic. "Teenie!
She set the lamp down on the brown-marble top of a wash-stand, pushed back her hair with both hands, and sat down on the bed-edge, heavily breathing from a run through deserted night's streets. "I gotta talk to you, Burkhardt now to-night." "Now's no time, Hanna. Come to bed." "Things can't go on like this, John." He lay back slowly. "Maybe you're right, Hanna.
Her arm under his head, the glass tilted high against his teeth, he drank deeply, gratefully, breathing out finally and lying back against his pillow, his right hand uncurling of its clutch. She lifted the short-snouted, wide-barreled, and steely object off the bed-edge gingerly, tremblingly. "More like it," he said, running his tongue around his mouth; "more like it."
Yet all of this somehow lit by a fall of very coarse, very white, and very freshly starched lace curtains portiere-fashion from the door, looped back in great curves from the single window, and even skirting stiffly and cleanly the bureau-front and bed-edge. "How is my little mammela?" said Mr. Pelz, leaning over the bed to kiss Mrs.
The chair she propped against the door, the top slat of it beneath the knob. Through a night of musty blackness she lay in a rigid line along the bed-edge. You who love the city for its million pulses, the beat of its great heart, and the terrific symphony of its soul, have you ever picked out from its orchestra the plaintive rune of the deserving poor?
The coin rolled to the bed-edge, bounced off to the floor, rolled to the zinc edge. Immediately after, on all-fours, his face screwed up for scrutiny and the back of his neck hotly ridden with crimson, Mr. Pelz leaned after. "Roody what?" "Heads!"
I have nothing to add to what I have said already, and perhaps it is time that you should see your husband. Paul hastily thrust his feet into his slippers, and awaited the opening of the door. 'He is there, said Laurent; 'he has probably listened to every word we have spoken. Paul sat trembling on the bed-edge.
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