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Updated: May 26, 2025
But you weren't binding books." "No, no," returned Old Grannis, drawing up a chair and sitting down. "No, I the fact is, I've sold my apparatus; a firm of booksellers has bought the rights of it." "And aren't you going to bind books any more?" exclaimed the little dressmaker, a shade of disappointment in her manner. "I thought you always did about four o'clock.
It had come at last; they were to know each other, to talk together, to touch each other's hands. Marcus brought Old Grannis around the table to little Miss Baker, dragging him by the coat sleeve, exclaiming: "Well, I thought you two people knew each other long ago. Miss Baker, this is Mr. Grannis; Mr. Grannis, this is Miss Baker." Neither spoke.
The sleeping twins were suddenly shaken into a dazed consciousness; Owgooste, whom the almond-eating of Marcus Schouler had petrified with admiration, was smacked to a realization of his surroundings. Old Grannis, with a certain delicacy that was one of his characteristics, felt instinctively that the guests the mere outsiders should depart before the family began its leave-taking of Trina.
I saw the first wild rose of the season to-day. "Ben Blair." A week later, after giving directions for the day's work to Grannis one morning, Ben added some suggestions for the days to follow. As to time, they were rather indefinite, and the overseer looked a question. "I'm going away for a bit," explained Ben, simply, in answer. Then he turned to Graham.
They had come to know each other's habits. Old Grannis knew that at quarter of five precisely Miss Baker made a cup of tea over the oil stove on the stand between the bureau and the window.
One day, about a fortnight after the coroner's inquest had been held, and when the excitement of the terrible affair was calming down and Polk Street beginning to resume its monotonous routine, Old Grannis sat in his clean, well-kept little room, in his cushioned armchair, his hands lying idly upon his knees. It was evening; not quite time to light the lamps.
He rubbed his chin tremulously and looked about him on the floor. "Why, isn't that fine?" said Trina, good-naturedly. "I'm very glad, Mister Grannis. Is it a good price?" "Quite a sum quite. In fact, I never dreamed of having so much money." "Now, see here, Mister Grannis," said Trina, decisively, "I want to give you a good piece of advice.
Ben tried to shift in bed, but with the movement a sudden pain made him grit his teeth to keep from uttering a groan. For the first time he thought of himself. "How much am I hurt, Grannis?" he queried directly. The foreman busied himself doing nothing about the room. "You?" cheerfully. "Oh, you're all right." Ben looked at the other narrowly. "Nothing to bother about, I judge?"
Just when it's becoming interesting." At this McTeague, acting upon a suggestion of Marcus Schouler's, insisted they should stay at the flat over night. Marcus and the dentist would give up their rooms to them and sleep at the dog hospital. There was a bed there in the sick ward that old Grannis sometimes occupied when a bad case needed watching.
Of a sudden, interrupting, the door connecting with the room adjoining opened and Ben Blair appeared. "Grannis," he requested, "come here a moment, please." In silence Blair closed the door behind them, motioned his companion to a seat, and took another opposite him. He was very quiet, even for his taciturn self; and, glancing at a heap of papers on a nearby table, Grannis understood.
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