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Updated: May 25, 2025
Usually I caught the eight-eighteen for Victoria, I had a midday meal and tea; four nights a week I stayed for preparation, and often I was not back home again until within an hour of my bedtime. I spent my half holidays at school in order to play cricket and football.
"I'll get you yet, you little vix," he said; "you pretty little black-eyed vix, you; I'll get you yet. "Like hell you will." "If you change your mind, come out on the eight-eighteen, girlie. Two blocks to the left of the station; the corner house with a little weather-cock over the porch. Can't miss it. I'll be drapin' the tree in tin fringe and wishing you were there."
I'll swear if I didn't miss my train by ten minutes the first time I seen you standing here at this counter with those big black eyes of yours shining out." "You'll miss it again if you don't run away, Charley-boy." "Dare you to come along! I'll wait for the five-eighteen." "Don't hold your breath till I do." "Dare you to come out on the eight-eighteen! Say the word, and I'll be at the station."
As she stood there the ache in Marjorie Clark's throat threatened to become articulate. She took up her swift pace again, but onward. Ten minutes later, within the great heated mausoleum of the Pennsylvania Terminal, she bought a ticket for Glendale. On track ten the eight-eighteen had already made its first jerk outward as she made her dash for it.
"Then buy your own meal ticket, if that's what's hurting you, little touchy, and come out on the eight-eighteen. It's only a thirty-minute run; and if you say the word I'll be at the station with bells on to meet you. Come on. I'll show you the Christmas Eve of your life. Be a sport, Marjie." "Yes, I always say, inviting a girl to be a sport is a slick way of inviting her to Hades.
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