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Updated: May 7, 2025
"What's going to be done with that report, Corson?" The Senator hesitated a few moments. "Understand that I'm no kin of old Captain Teach, the buccaneer, either in politics or business, Daunt. But I'm not fool enough to believe that the millennium has arrived in this world, even if the battle of Armageddon has been fought, as the parsons are preaching. We still must deal with human conditions.
The men of the orchestra had packed their instruments; the dismayed guests put on their wraps and called for their carriages. In the place of lilting violins and merry tongues, hammers clattered and saws rasped; the servants were boarding up the broken windows. Lana Corson, closeted with Mrs. Stanton, found the discord below-stairs peculiarly hateful; it suggested so much, replacing the music.
The Senator tossed his coat upon a huge divan at one side of the chamber and invited Daunt to dispose of his own coat in like fashion. Corson came to the table and sat sidewise on one corner of it. "You know how I feel about your pressing the election statutes to the extent you have.
To the beginning, then: You, Prudence Corson, betrothed to me these three years and more; you have been buried in the waters of baptism and had your washings and anointings in the temple of the most high God. Is it not so?
Nor neither will nobody else when they see them mares fade away in the home stretch; nope, neither will nobody else." In this reference to over-wise Easterners there was a direct thrust at the girl, but she accepted it with a smile. "Don't you think they'll last for the mile and a quarter, Mr. Corson?" "Think? I don't think. I know! Picture hosses like them well, they'd ought to be left in books.
But it was the unexpected which happened. The soul of David Corson had passed through one of those genuine and permanent revolutions which sometimes take place in the nature of man. He had completed the cycle of revolt and anarchy to which he had been condemned by his inheritance from a wild and profligate father.
He cracked his knuckles on the table and shouted: "But do you know can you imagine what he said after I had twice assured him as to those dividends on common, replying to his repeated questions? Can you?" "No," admitted Corson, having reason to be considerably uncertain in regard to Stewart Morrison's newly developed notions about affairs in general.
I was feeling now the return effects of my blow on the coolie's chin. I felt too much in fault myself to call my attendants very sharply to task. It was through me that Luella had come into danger, and I had to confess that I had failed in prudence and had come near to paying dear for it. "I don't understand this, Mr. Wilton," said Corson in confidential perplexity.
There was some fresh mystery about this. I held my tongue with the reflection that I had better let it straighten itself out than risk a stumble by asking about things I ought to know. Corson's relief soon appeared. "It's a nasty night," he said, buttoning up his overcoat closely, as Corson gave him a brief report of the situation on the beat. "It's good for them as likes it dark," said Corson.
Hiram Corson who said: "It is what man draws up from his sub-self which is of prime importance in his true education, not what is put into him. It is the occasional uprising of our sub-selves that causes us, at times, to feel that we are greater than we know."
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