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Updated: June 27, 2025
Did you read his thing on Russia and Kerensky? Lord, it was absolutely prophetic." Lockwood shook his head. "Dorn's too damn clever," he drawled. "Things come too easily to him. He's got an eye but I can't put my finger on it. You see a fella's got to have something inside him. The things Erik says cleverly and prophetically don't mean anything much, because they don't mean anything to him.
"Naw, I gotta date." Tyler's glance encountered Moran's, and rested there. Scorn curled the Irishman's broad upper lip. "Navy! This ain't no navy no more. It's a Sunday school, that's what! Phonographs, an' church suppers, an' pool an' dances! It's enough t' turn a fella's stomick. Lot of Sunday school kids don't know a sail from a tablecloth when they see it."
'I say, it is a hard case, Miss, a lad o' spirit should be kept so tight. I haven't a shilling but what comes through his fingers; an' drat the tizzy he'll gi' me till he knows the reason why. 'Perhaps, I said, 'my uncle thinks you should earn some for yourself. 'I'd like to know how a fella's to earn money now-a-days. You wouldn't have a gentleman to keep a shop, I fancy.
However, not satisfied with pantomime, Mr. Reardon went a trifle farther for reasons best known to himself. He laved the corner of his mouth with the tip of a tobacco-stained tongue and said presently: "I can't say, Misther Ricks, that I quite like the cut av that fella's jib." That was the Irish of it.
"What's at?" "You heard me!" she said shrilly. "I said to take your drunken friend away." Her rising voice rang out above the clatter of the restaurant and a waiter came hurrying up. "You gotta be more quiet!" "That fella's drunk," she cried. "He's insulting us." "Ah-ha, Gordy," persisted the accused. "What'd I tell you." He turned to the waiter. "Gordy an' I friends.
Been tryin' help him, haven't I, Gordy?" Gordy looked up. "Help me? Hell, no!" Jewel rose suddenly, and seizing Gordon's arm assisted him to his feet. "Come on, Gordy!" she said, leaning toward him and speaking in a half whisper. "Let's us get out of here. This fella's got a mean drunk on." Gordon allowed himself to be urged to his feet and started toward the door.
"Say, boy," exclaimed Clark breathlessly, "doesn't Nancy Lamar look beautiful?" Jim nodded. "Mighty beautiful," he agreed. "She's all dolled up to a fare-you-well to-night," continued Clark. "Notice that fellow she's with?" "Big fella? White pants?" "Yeah. Well, that's Ogden Merritt from Savannah. Old man Merritt makes the Merritt safety razors. This fella's crazy about her.
You know I used to wonder if a fella's face would ever come smooth again in heaven. That was a spell ago. I ain't been worryin' about it none lately." "How old are you?" "Me? I'm huggin' thirty-five clost. But not so clost I can't hear thirty-six lopin' up right smart." "Only thirty-five!" exclaimed Winthrop. Then quickly, "Oh, I beg your pardon." "That's nothin'", said Overland genially.
You're letting your story-telling instinct warp your judgment, Lucy. You're looking for mysteries. I'll get that roll right now." "No, leave it, Al, please! You can get it later, if I'm wrong. But I just feel that this old fella's got something locked up in his breast. Rouse him and leave him to me. I'll make him talk. I'm sorry you doped him. You may have spoiled everything."
"Now don't excite yourself," he warned Nicky-Nan. "When first I seed your name 'pon the address I said to myself 'What a good job if that poor fella's luck should be here at last, and this a fortun' arrived from his rich relatives in Canada! That's the very words I said to myself." "As it happens, I han't got no rich relatives, neither here nor in Canada," answered Nicky-Nan.
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