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Updated: June 1, 2025
It was sultry everywhere, but particularly in Archey Road; for in summer Archey Road is a tunnel for the south-west wind, which refreshes itself at the rolling-mill blasts, and spills its wrath upon the just and the unjust alike. Wherefore Mr. Dooley and Mr. McKenna were both steaming, as they sat at either side of the door of Mr. Dooley's place, with their chairs tilted back against the posts.
Gone, she found, were her feeling of uncertainty, her sighs of regret. Here at last was something real, something definite, something noble and great in the work of the world. "And all mine," she thought with an almost passionate feeling of possession. "All mine mine mine " Archey was the first to come in, and it only needed a glance to see that Archey was unhappy.
"What are the men saying now?" she asked Archey at the end of their first good week. "They're not saying much, but I think they're up to something. They've called a special meeting for tonight." The next morning was Sunday. Mary was hardly downstairs when Archey called. "I've found out about their meeting last night," he said.
Chicago is always on the point of hanging some one and quartering him and boiling him in hot pitch, and assuring him that he has lost the respect of all honorable men. Rumors of a characteristic agitation had come faintly up Archey Road, and Mr. Hennessy had heard of it. "I hear they're goin' to hang th' aldhermen," he said. "If they thry it on Willum J. O'Brien, they'd betther bombard him first.
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