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Updated: May 22, 2025
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."
Automatically she started toward the clerk's desk. Then she remembered, and stopped. "I'll wait here," she said. "Get the key for five-eighteen, will you please? And tell the clerk that I'll want the room adjoining beginning to-night, instead of to-morrow, as I first intended. Tell him you're Mrs. McChesney's son." He turned away.
Her laughter rose, and his confusion with it. "Sure," she cried. "Aw aw, come on, Marjie." "Well, of all the nerve! My name's private property, it is." "It slipped. It said itself. But, gee! I like it. Marjie! Some little name." "Well, of all the nerve!" "Come on, black-eyes. You're off at five and we'll catch the five-eighteen. Who's going to be any the wiser?
Maltwood," and made some scribbled replies until Mrs. Deacon entered to announce that his luncheon was ready. When he went back to the quaint, old-fashioned dining-room and seated himself, he said: "I'm going back by the five-eighteen, and I dare say I shan't return for quite a month or perhaps six weeks. Here's a cheque for ten pounds to pay these little bills."
"I wish you was half as white as this Christmas is. Honest, sometimes I says to myself, I says, ain't there just none of you white? Has a girl like me got to keep dodging all her life?" "Come, sister, let's catch the five-eighteen." "You better run along before you get me all rubbed the wrong way. At five-eighteen I'll be buying my own meal ticket, let me tell you that."
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