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Updated: May 28, 2025
"'Town Gossip'!" The old reporter gave a grunt of contempt. "And you've come to interview Mrs. De Peyster?" "Yes." "First time I ever knew that leprous scandal-scavenger and black-hander to send a man out in the open to get a story." Evidently the old reporter, whom the others addressed as "colonel," had by his long service acquired the privilege of surly out-spokenness.
For both worry and sleeplessness are habits, easily gained, and once gained very hard to get rid of, yet both unnecessary, needless, and foolish. The worry that produces sleeplessness is merciless; so merciless and relentless that no fierce torture of a Black-hander can be described that is worse in its long continuing and evil results.
Force, turning an ironic eye upon the row of servants. "Well, I'll just step out and see what it's all about," said Mr. Bingle reluctantly. "Better see that the chap isn't a bomb-thrower, come to demand money of you, Bingle," said Force. Mr. Bingle waved his hand airily as he threaded his way among the chairs. "Does he look like a black-hander, Diggs?" "No, sir," replied Diggs.
"Yes," muttered Mock, "but you're talking dreams, neighbor. I'm no black-hander, to creep up behind them with a knife, or take a pot shot at them. I'm not quite that kind, neighbor, and it couldn't be done, anyway." "You could put 'em out of the way, and no one would be the wiser," hinted the stranger. "How?" "I'll show you, when I'm sure enough that you're game," declared the civilian.
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