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Updated: June 28, 2025
He was being volleyed at the rate of thirty-five miles an hour into the presence of a man who had that morning sworn at his mother. He wished he could, say for one day, have Breede back there on the banks of the Nile set him to work building a pyramid, or weeding the lotus patch, foot or no foot! He'd show him! He switched this resentment to the young female at his side.
"'S awful!" said Breede, obviously forgetting the car for another subject. "What can I do? She says she's got the right," suggested Bean. "She'd take it anyway. I know her. Pack a suit-case. Had times with her already. Takes it from her mother." "Can't be too rough at the start," declared Bean. "Manage 'em of course, but 'thout their finding it out velvet glove."
Yet he would see that tomb, and at the earliest possible moment. At eleven that night they reached the capital. A dispiriting silence was maintained to the doors of a hotel. The women drooped in chairs. Breede acquainted the reception committee of a Paris hostelry with the party's needs as to chambers. Thereupon they discovered one of the party to be missing. No one had seen him since entering.
I shall die at twelve o'clock on the night of the 15th of July a significant anniversary to me, for it was on that day, and at that hour, that my friend in time and eternity, Charles Breede, performed his vow to me by the same act which his fidelity to our pledge now entails upon me. He took his life in his little house in the Copeton woods.
With considerable interest he studied the directors as they came and went. Most of them, like Breede, were men whose wealth the daily press had a habit of estimating in rotund millions. He regarded them knowingly, thinking he could tell them something that might surprise them.
For three days he endured on the raw of his own soul tortures even more ingeniously harrowing. To be shut up for three hours a day with Breede was bad enough, but custom had a little dulled his sensitiveness to this. And he could look Breede over and write down in beautiful shorthand what he thought of him. But the other Breedes! Mrs.
There were four days of this regrettable philandering. On the fifth Breede manifested alarming symptoms of recovery. He ceased to be the meek man he was under actual suffering, and was several times guilty of short-worded explosions that should never have reached the ears of good women.
Bean ceased to be a puzzle to any one, and Breede lapsed into unconsciousness of Julia. The game held them for eleven innings. The Greatest Pitcher saved it to the home team. "He was saying to me only this morning " began Bean, as the Pitcher fielded the last bunt. But the prized quotation was lost in the uproar.
Once he stared at Breede's detached cuffs with a scorn so malevolent that Breede turned them about on the desk to examine them himself. Bean went white, feeling "ready for anything!" but Breede merely continued his babble about "Federal Express" stock, and "first mortgage refunding 4 per cent. gold bonds," and multifarious other imbecilities that now filled a darkened world.
"Well, I didn't know what else," answered the largest director, who was already feeling bluffed. "Why didn't J.B. here assert himself then?" "'Fraid he'd get mad's 'ell an' quit me," said Breede. "Only st'nogfer ever found gimme minute's peace. Dunno why talk aw ri'. He un'stan's me; res' drive me 'sane." "Plug's pulled, anyway," commented the quiet director.
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