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Updated: June 9, 2025
And then she rustled starchily back to the throne-chair by the record-table, and opened her Bible at the place where it said that Annie Petowski might sit up, and the Goldstein baby bran baths, and the other thing written just below.
In the Opera-house were gathered Comrade Mabel Smith and Comrade Meissner and Comrade Goldstein, the secretary of the Ypsels, and the three members of the Reception Committee Comrade Norwood, the rising young lawyer, Comrade Dr. Service, and Comrade Schultze of the Carpet-weavers' Union. To them rushed the breathless Jimmie. "Have you heard the news?" "What is it?".
Still! three thousand crowns are enough to pay down as a guarantee for a really good farm, and if Klara Goldstein spoke the truth, and Pali bácsi is really so well disposed toward me, why, I need not be altogether ashamed to present myself before your parents. Need I, my dove?" "Before my parents?" she murmured.
Patsy indignantly asserted. "The man admitted to Uncle John that Ajo is the biggest stockholder in the Continental, the president, to boot; yet Goldstein wouldn't lift a finger to help him and positively refused to obey his request to go to him after he was arrested." "I know about that," said Aunt Jane, quietly.
When her flounces and streamers were all safely tucked inside she dazzled them with au revoirs from her shining eyes and teeth. "Come around to the hotel and see me, Bill, before you leave the city," she called as the glittering cab rolled away. Highsmith, still in his make-up, went with Herr Goldstein to a café booth. "Bright idea, eh?" asked the smiling actor.
There was an interval of intense silence, broken by a wild, hysteric laugh from Mrs. Goldstein, and then the coroner asked: "How did you know that the hair in the hand of the corpse was not that of the murderer?" "The inference was very obvious. At the first glance the peculiar and conspicuous colour of the hair struck me as suspicious.
Herr Goldstein shrugged his fat shoulders and beckoned to the waiter. The newspaper man brightened a little and mentioned absinthe. The youth with parted hair was plunged into melancholy. The guests of the rathskeller laughed, clinked glasses and enjoyed the comedy that Posie Carrington was treating them to after her regular performance.
"Joseph Goldstein burglary. Will you give him grand larceny in the second?" The Honorable Peckham shook his head. "Sorry I can't oblige you, old top," he said regretfully. "He's called the King of the Fences. If I did, the papers would holler like hell. I'll make it any degree of burglary, though." "Very well. Burglary in the third," agreed Mr. Tutt, jotting it down.
It was only when, at the age of sixteen, Gittel Goldstein left the whirring machine-room for the more lucrative and laurelled position of heroine of Goldwater's London Yiddish Theatre that he had discovered how this whimsical, coquettish creature had insinuated herself into his very being.
"He listened to Reuben Goldstein, your Excellency, and put his hand in his pocket then and there, and took out a handful of gold, which he showed to that descendant of Beelzebub, telling him that all that would be his, if the horse and cart were ready for him by eleven o'clock." "And, of course, the horse and cart were ready?"
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