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Updated: May 8, 2025
Who was the other lady sitting on the porch?" "That was Mrs. Clemm. I go up there to borrow books; and I like Mr. Poe, only well, he is rather unfortunate." "Was she so beautiful?" asked the child, irrelevantly. "Mrs. Poe? Yes; I think she must have been. She looked like a small white wraith do you know what a wraith is?" smilingly. "A kind of ghost. And were they very poor?" "It's a sad story.
Mother Clemm, expecting him to bring home a bride, had spent the day putting an extra touch of brightness upon the simple but already spotless, home.
She walked into the doorway, from the elevator corridor, holding Mary's arm. As she saw the lover-like attitude of the plump Mr. Clemm, she gasped, and then burst out in righteous indignation. "Why, you shameless girl, what do you mean by such actions in the office of the Purity League? I shall tell my husband at once!" Miss Emerson sprang away from the amorous entanglement with Mr.
"You will have to dispose of her to-day, Shepard. Give her some strong coffee a good stiff needleful of cocaine will bring her around. Do something, that's all, or you don't get a red cent of the remaining three hundred. Now, I'm a busy man. You'll have to talk louder, too, my hearing isn't what it used to be." "Say, Clemm, quit this kidding about your ears.
The wood-robins were singing in the tall trees, and the sun made dancing shadows on the stoop that was always clean as a floor. Mrs. Clemm brought her splint rocker out, and begged her to try it, and asked after the cousins, sending thanks for the cake that she had found in her basket, and the pot-cheese that had proved such a treat to her visitors. She thanked Mrs.
In the following spring Edgar Poe and Virginia Clemm were, strange as it may seem, principals in another wedding.
We sent you just what was ordered and if I don't get the money right now you get blacklisted. Shell out!" The manager's tone was hard as nails. "Oh, Mr. Clemm ... well, excuse me. I must step behind your desk to get it, but you ain't treatin' me right, just the same, to force it this way."
Up the stairs is the attic chamber, with its slanting roof, where Poe worked, with the cat at his elbow; where after his wife's death he penned a dirge for her in the exquisite Annabel Lee; where he wrote the first draught of The Bells, which he was to revise and complete while on his lecture trip to Lowell. Next to it is the room where slept Mrs. Clemm, his more than mother.
He knew that his foster-father's patience was exhausted, and that he could expect nothing more from him, and he soon proved himself incapable of self-support. He drifted from New York to Baltimore, often without knowing where his next meal was coming from, and finally, at Baltimore, his father's widowed sister gave him a home, and he soon married her fragile daughter, Virginia Clemm.
He formerly ran a gambling house, and at different times has been involved in bunco game and wire-tapping tricks. He is one of the cleverest crooks in New York. In the present case he has been the go-between for this man Trubus, who, posing as a reformer to cover his activities, has kept in touch with the work of the Vice Trust, managed by Clemm.
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