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The bootblack had not finished the first shoe when a policeman hoisted himself into the other chair. "How are you, Nucky?" he grunted. "All right, thanks," replied the boy, an uneasy look softening his cold eyes for the moment. "Didn't keep the job I got you, long," the officer said. "What was the rip this time?" "Aw, I ain't goin' to hold down ho five-dollar-a-week job. What do you think I am?"
"I am afraid to go and afraid to stay away," was the reply, and the voice of the fifty-thousand-dollars-a-season tenor was as human as that of a five-dollar-a-week father, for at bottom all men, high or low, are one. "'We will not fail as we did Wednesday," reread Craig. "What does that mean?"
"I am afraid to go and afraid to stay away," was the reply, and the voice of the fifty-thousand-dollars-a-season tenor was as human as that of a five-dollar-a-week father, for at bottom all men, high or low, are one. "'We will not fail as we did Wednesday," reread Craig. "What does that mean?"
Evenings, six-dollar-a-week salesgirls sit in their five-dollar-a-week hall-bedrooms, with their aching feet in a tub of hot water and their aching fingers busy with baby-ribboned coat-hangers and silk needle-book tokens of Yuletide affection.
She was here now, in a five-dollar-a-week housekeeping room, foot-loose, free as the wind. That was Fyfe's last word to her. He had come with her to Seattle and waited patiently at a hotel until she found a place to live. Then he had gone away without protest. "Well, Stella," he had said, "I guess this is the end of our experiment.
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