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Updated: June 2, 2025
"I've had enough of your insults. This is my room; please leave it!" Cowan stared a moment in surprise, hesitated, threw a glance of inquiry at Paul's troubled and averted face, and slid from the table. "Of course you can put me out of your room," he sneered. "For that matter, I'm glad to leave it. I did think, though, that part of the shop was Paul's, but I dare say he has to humor you."
You might have got a fairly true characterization of Sophy Decker from one of fifty people: from a dapper salesman in a New York or Chicago wholesale millinery house; from Otis Cowan, cashier of the First National Bank of Chippewa; from Julia Gold, her head milliner and trimmer; from almost any one, in fact, except a member of her own family.
Presently he spoke my name, and I stood before him. "I will give you a piece of advice, Davy," said he. "If you want a thing, go straight to the man that has it. McChesney has spoken to me about this wild notion of yours of going to Vincennes, and Cowan and McCann and Ray and a dozen others have dogged my footsteps." "I only spoke to Terence because he asked me, sir," I answered.
"Can you walk an hundred miles without food, Davy?" asked Colonel Clark, eying me gravely. "Faith he's lean as a wolf, and no stomach to hinder him," said Terence, seeing me look troubled. "I'll not be missing the bit of food the likes of him would eat." "And as for the heft of him," added Cowan, "Mac and I'll not feel it." Colonel Clark laughed.
"Forehanded little tike," said Sharon, admiringly. "And smart! She can outsmart us all any day in the week!" In a dim upper bedroom in the big house Wilbur Cowan divested himself of woman's raiment for probably the last time in his life. He hurried more than he might have, because the room was full of large, strange, terrifying furniture. It was a place to get out of as soon as he could.
The time we bought God's picture from Jerry Cowan the time Dan ate the poison berries the time we heard the ghostly bell ring the bewitchment of Paddy the visit of the Governor's wife and the night we were lost in the storm all awaken reminiscent jest and laughter; but none more than the recollection of the Sunday Peg Bowen came to church and sat in our pew.
I guess we're fast enough for most folks." "What about his father?" said the stock-breeding Sharon. "Know anything about who he was?" "Lord, yes! Everybody round here used to know old Matthew Cowan. Lived up in Geneseo, where Dave was born, but used to come round here preaching. Queer old customer with a big head.
Soon after a novel breakfast the following morning in that it was late and leisurely and he ate from a chair at a table he heard the squealing brakes of a motor car and saw one brought to a difficult stop at the Penniman gate. Sharon Whipple, the driver, turned to look back at the machine indignantly, as if it had misbehaved. Wilbur Cowan met him at the gate.
Cowan moved to amend the first section of the bill so that its operation would be limited to such States "as have lately been in rebellion." In supporting his amendment, Mr. Cowan remarked: "I have no idea of having this system extended over Pennsylvania.
"I know all about it, and I've called you here for two reasons: I think you, McGee, are entitled to see the next to the last act in this little ah tragedy, I suppose it should be called; and I want Larkin to be present when his uniform reappears. I might need him for purposes of identification." "But " Cowan lifted a protesting hand. "Don't ask questions. Better let me tell it.
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