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"Sure, the lawyer guy kicked in with the balance of the ten thousand, and I am now busily engaged in putting it where it will do the most good. Moved? Well, I should hope so, dear. Instead of existing in a two-by-four hallroom, with an airshaft exposure, where you have to open the door to think, I am now residing in a real suite. Maybe you think I don't keep Estelle that's my maid on the job.
Oh, he's well, anyway, he's a dear boy." But what she said was: "Less dramatic things for you, now, Milt. Trigonometry is going to be your idea of fun; blueprints and engineering books." "Yes. I know. I'm going to do it. Do four years' work in three or two. I'll tack pages of formulas on the wall, in my bum hallroom, and study 'em while I'm shaving. Oh, I'll be the grind!
Now I've got to hunt a hallroom and begin scratching gravel." "But at least until you find a position." "No. I'm sure of something first pop, if old Grif is in town. You remember, I once told you all about him M. F. Griffith, my old engineer man who boosted me from a bum to a transitman. Whitest man that ever was! Last I heard, he'd located here in Chicago as a consulting engineer.
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