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Updated: June 23, 2025


Grace had little time to lose. The examinations, which took place the next day and the day after, would undoubtedly bring matters to a crisis. She took the handkerchief from her pocket and sniffed at it. Neither was she familiar with perfumes, and this odor was new to her. Suddenly an idea occurred to her and she made straight for the nearest drugstore. "Mr.

A "dip" calls a friendly "Hello, Dan" to the policeman in front of the drugstore and works his steps over the car tracks toward the drunk teetering against the window of the Jew's clothing store. The air is dust-filled. An intermittent baking gust from the river sends a cast-aside Journal fluttering aloft. A dirt-encrusted bum begs the price of a coffee.

"Huh! do you think like that old man that I did it a-purpose?" "But you did dye it!" "I tried to." "That was the stuff you were buying yesterday in the drugstore?" she queried. "Yes. And I put it on just before I started for church. He said it would make the hair a beautiful brown." "Who said so?" "That drugstore clerk," said Neale, despondently. "He never sold you hair-dye at all!"

If I were hypersensitive to the silly things people say, I should have given up selling long before. I pretended not to hear him. We walked into a drugstore and he dropped a nickel into a payphone, hunching the receiver between ear and shoulder. "Fifty your last word?" he asked out of the corner of his mouth. I nodded. "Hello? 'Gencer? Gootes. Hya, beautiful? Syphilis all cleared up?

Charley licked his lips. "I really don't know," he said. The cabbie blinked. "What?" "I'm going to need some help," Charley said. "I want to find a Dr. Schinsake, but I don't know where he is. If you can drive me to a drugstore, where we can look him up in a phone book " "Dr. Schinsake?" the driver said. "That's the guy who grows things? I mean, arms and legs? Like that?"

Into his head came the idea that he had killed Sue and that the blue-clad figure walking with heavy tread on the stone pavement was seeking him to take him back to where she lay white and lifeless. Again he stopped, before a little frame drugstore on a corner, and sitting down on the steps before it cursed God openly and defiantly like an angry boy defying his father.

He found occasional work in the drugstore, and for a time he had a small private school. His surviving pupils speak warmly of his sympathy and kindness. He had little mechanical ability. I recall seeing him try to build a fence one morning. He bravely dug postholes, but they were pretty poor, and the completed fence was not so very straight.

The judge, who had already been informed of the incident at the drugstore, observed Tryon's preoccupation and guessed shrewdly at its cause, but gave no sign. Tryon left the matter of the note unreservedly in the lawyer's hands, with instructions to communicate to him any further developments.

More to show a proper regard for what interested the doctor than from any curiosity of his own, he drove forward a few feet, until the side of the buggy was opposite the drugstore window, and then looked in. Between the colored glass bottles in the window he could see a young woman, a tall and slender girl, like a lily on its stem.

The bare naming of the drug rolled up the curtain before the whole tragedy which had been suggested by the portrait in the library; it explained every detail of this wild night except her presence here practically alone with the crazed young man. It accounted for her objection to waiting in the drugstore; it solved the mystery of her fear of the city shadows.

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