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Just as the editor was reading the first line of the poem, on the next morning, a being stumbled off the West Shore ferryboat, and loped slowly up Forty-second Street. Blaney's plays. His trousers were corduroy, his coat short-sleeved, with buttons in the middle of his back. One bootleg was outside the corduroys.
"I'm not through yet, Blaney." "I haven't got time to talk with you," blustered the contractor. Jim stood a moment looking him over. Blaney's eyes were fixed on the Irishman. "How much did he give you?" asked Jim, quietly. Blaney whirled around. "Look out," he said. "I don't know what you're talking about, but a man can't say that to me." His fists were clenched. Jim spoke without emotion.
"Bedad, and it's him has the foine nose for turkey!" said Blaney, a good-natured, jovial Irishman. "Yes, or for pay-day, more like," said Keefe, a black-browed, villainous fellow countryman of Blaney's and, strange to say, his great friend. Big Sandy McNaughton, a Canadian Highlander from Glengarry, rose up in wrath.
Blaney glanced at the other two. They were watching McNally closely, and Williams was fumbling his watch chain. Blaney's eyes met McNally's. "What'll you do for us?" he asked. "It'll take careful work." For answer McNally rose and went to the bed, where his bag lay open. He rummaged a moment, then returned with a pack of cards. "Forgot my chips," he said, seating himself. "Close up, boys."
That cough ain't a double-lunger. You run over to the clinic." "I gotta go back to the store now." "After store, then." "Free?" "Sure! Old Doc Strauss is on after five too. If I ain't too nervy I'm off after six myself. I could meet you after and we could talk over what he tells you if I ain't too nervy?" "Blaney's my name Eddie Blaney. Ask anybody round here about me.
That cough ain't a double-lunger. You run over to the clinic." "I gotta go back to the store now." "After store, then?" "Free?" "Sure! Old Doc Strauss is on after five, too. If I ain't too nervy I'm off after six myself. I could meet you after and we could talk over what he tells you if I ain't too nervy?" "Blaney's my name Eddie Blaney. Ask anybody round here about me.
He had exposed himself to it on the evening when he went to Blaney's house to make the preliminary move in his game; and now after the five days of tense inaction it attacked him furiously. He was in a raging fever when he left Blaney's office, but he did not realize it, borne up as he was by the excitement of winning.
He was in residence along with five male servants, one a boy of fourteen years of age. Blaney's muster of 1625 included fifteen men all in the age group from seventeen to forty with most being under thirty. He, it seems, was not in residence here over the water. In 1624 he had represented Jamestown in the Assembly and was still living in "James Citty" in 1625.
'Bedad, and it's him has the foine nose for turkey! said Blaney, a good-natured, jovial Irishman. 'Yes, or for pay-day, more like, said Keefe, a black-browed, villainous fellow-countryman of Blaney's, and, strange to say, his great friend. Big Sandy M'Naughton, a Canadian Highlander from Glengarry, rose up in wrath.
But when Jim left the hotel that morning he wasted no time on minority leaders. Bridge was useful to prepare and introduce ordinances, but was not of the caliber for big deals, so Jim ordered a carriage and drove direct to Blaney's house. Although the hour was early, the politician was not at home.
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