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Updated: June 1, 2025
Claire had a blurred impression that she had seen him before, some place along the road. "Stuck?" he inquired, not very intelligently. "How much is Adolph charging you?" "He wants three-fifty, and his harness broke, and he wants two dollars " "Oh! So he's still working that old gag! I've heard all about Adolph. He keeps that harness for pulling out cars, and it always busts.
"Adolph, I guess Mr. Hochenheimer will excuse us eh? Renie, you can entertain Mr. Hochenheimer while me and papa go and spend the evening over at Aunt Meena's. Mr. Shongut's sister, Mr. Hochenheimer, 'ain't been so well. Anyways, I always say young folks 'ain't got no time for old ones." "You go right ahead along, Mrs. Shongut. Don't treat me like company.
Adolph shook on his coat, found his glasses, and was crossing to put out the lamp when his foot struck a small object. "What is this, something of yours?" He stooped and picked up a framed snapshot of a girl playing with a baby. "How beautiful!" he exclaimed, holding it under the lamp. "Oh, yes," said Stefan with a slight frown, "that's Mary. I didn't know I had it with me.
The Adolph Woermann was a six-thousand-three-hundred-ton ship, three years old, and so heavily laden with guns and ammunition and steel rails for the Tanga Railway that it would hardly roll in a hurricane. There were about sixty first-class passengers on board and a fair number in the second class.
If she will have me back, she must know I've made some sacrifice to come, I'll go, if she says so, because I care for her, but I can't go as a faithful, loving husband it would be too grotesque." "Consider her health, my friend," implored Adolph, still with his bewildered, shocked air; "it might kill her!" "Can't! She's as strong as a horse she can face the truth like a man."
Finally he let go of Adolph and shook off the hands of those who were interfering. His dark face looked gray. On his wrinkled forehead a swollen vein showed, as thick as a cord. "There," said he breathing heavily, "if any one else wants some of the same sort, he only needs to torment the boy."
Ten days after the stout "Rambler" shook out her snowy sails and flitted away to Bermuda, there was nothing left to ruffle the still waters of oblivion which had closed over Randall Clayton. Only upon the face of Robert Wade, Esq., lingered now an anxious expression of vague unrest. For the Newport Art Gallery knew the oily beauty of Mr. Adolph Lilienthal no longer.
The Germans themselves were contentedly jogging on with the hybrid music of Spontini, Bellini, Donizetti, Meyerbeer and Mendelssohn; and Wagner never tired of telling them to create an art of their own, or really he would have to do it for them. He did as well as talked and wrote; he produced the nearest thing he could find to pure German opera for instance, Marschner's Adolph von Nassau in 1845.
For a week Adolph slept badly in the shop, for although he hoped the thief had been frightened away by the proceedings taken against him, still, whenever he fell asleep, he dreamt of burglars, and so awoke himself many times during the long nights.
The policeman sprang to his feet as the lawyer logically recounted his casual visits to the Newport Art Gallery, on finding a similar Danube picture in the window. "In my opinion," sharply concluded Jack, "this Adolph Lilienthal knows something. His glib lie that there was no duplicate of the artist proof in America fell flat when I reminded him that I had recently seen one in New York.
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