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Updated: May 21, 2025
Are they any better than we are? My note of hand would be worth ten times what Bromfield Corey's is on the street to-day. And I made MY money. I haven't loafed my life away." "Oh, it isn't what you've got, and it isn't what you've done exactly. It's what you are." "Well, then, what's the difference?"
He managed to bend his neck and roll, coming to his feet. His knife slashed upwards, and the Legal fell almost on top of the Security badge that had dropped from Gordon's pouch. He jerked himself down and scooped it up, his eyes darting for Trench. He stuffed it back, ducking a blow. Then his glance fell on the entrance to Mother Corey's house with Sheila Corey coming out of the seal!
He was going to be obviously master in his own place to every one; and during the hours of business he did nothing to distinguish Corey from the half-dozen other clerks and book-keepers in the outer office, but he was not silent about the fact that Bromfield Corey's son had taken a fancy to come to him. "Did you notice that fellow at the desk facing my type-writer girl?
I'd like to come along with you to observe, but I wouldn't make any choice between Wayne and Nolan." Downstairs, the rear room was locked, with one of Mother Corey's guards at the door. From inside came the rare sound of water splashing, mixed with a wheezing, off-key caterwauling. Mother Corey was apparently making good on his promise to take a bath.
But you two sorts of artists create form. If you represent, you fail. Somehow or other you do evolve the camel out of your inner consciousness." "I will not deny the soft impeachment," said the architect, with a modest air. "I dare say. And you'll own that it's very handsome of me to say this, after your unjustifiable attack on Mrs. Corey's property."
"Well, Persis, ma'am, you can't say but what you began it," said Penelope. "Oh yes, I began it," confessed Mrs. Lapham. "Pen," she broke out, "what do you suppose he means by it?" "Who? Mr. Corey's father? What does the Colonel think?" "Oh, the Colonel!" cried Mrs. Lapham. She added tremulously: "Perhaps he IS right.
"Corey's father called this morning." "Did he?" said Mrs. Lapham, willing to humour his feint of indifference. "Did HE want to borrow some money too?" "Not as I understood." Lapham was smoking at great ease, and his wife had some crocheting on the other side of the lamp from him. The girls were on the piazza looking at the moon on the water again.
Corey had lived for were the great and high objects of life. He now perceived how far from really fine or fashionable anything at the St. Albans had been, and that the simplicity of Miss Vane's little house, which the splendour of the hotel had eclipsed in his crude fancy, was much more in harmony with the richness of Mr. Corey's.
"Corey!" said Lapham, in the peremptory voice of a master, he had seemed so indifferent to Corey's presence that the young man thought he must have forgotten he was there, "Is Dennis anywhere round?" "Yissor," said Dennis, answering for himself from the head of the stairs, and appearing in the ware-room. Lapham spoke to the woman again.
Corey's house was one of the few that had kept some relation to Earth styles by installing a couple of windows in the second story, and it would give a perfect view of the street. He followed the old man up the stairs. Two other men were already in the surprisingly well-furnished room, at the little table set up near the window.
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