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Updated: July 22, 2025
I have heard so, and I really think so myself, but being pretty means so little when it comes to anything like this with a man like him. He might love Addie Hemingway instead of me, so far as looks were concerned, but I don't think Addie would make him very happy do you, Maria?" "No, dear. I am quite sure he will never think of her. Now try and be quiet and go to sleep."
Hemingway." "Mrs. Hemingway is my very good friend. At the first opportunity I shall explain to her. She can readily understand that "One may go without relatives, cousins, and aunts But civilized man cannot go without pants. I wish you hadn't such deucedly long legs, Champ. Regular hop-poles!" grumbled Checkleigh, ungratefully. "They are poor things, but mine own," said Peter, mildly.
The consul laughed evasively. "It's a local joke," he explained. "A lot of men come here for reasons best kept to themselves, and they all say what you said, that they've come to shoot big game. It's grown to be a polite way of telling a man it is none of his business." "But I didn't mean it that way," protested Hemingway. "I really have been after big game for the last eight months."
"Isn't it just barely possible," hinted one of the clerks, "that the man wanted the stuff for some legitimate purpose?" "A man who knows how to use nitroglycerine," retorted Hemingway, gruffly, "also knows that it's against the law to ship nitroglycerine unlabeled. He also knows that it's against the law for an express company to transport the stuff on a car that is part of a passenger train.
Sime Hemingway did not sleep well his first night on Mars. There was no tangible reason why he shouldn't. His bed was soft. He had dined sumptuously, for this hotel's cuisine offered not only Martian delicacies, but drew on Earth and Venus as well. Yet Sime did not sleep well. He tossed restlessly in the caressing softness of his bed.
In a community where the few dozen white women had wilted and faded in the fierce sun of the equator, and where the rest of the women were jet black except their teeth, which were dyed an alluring purple, Polly Adair was as beautiful as a June morning. At least, so Hemingway thought the first time he saw her, and each succeeding time he thought her more beautiful, more lovely, more to be loved.
Her eyes were filled with sudden tears, and so wonderful was the light in them that for one mad moment Hemingway thought they were tears of happiness. But the light died, and what had been tears became only wet drops of water, and he saw to his dismay that she was most miserable.
"I should have known you instantly, anywhere." "I am told my legs are quite unmistakable. Some have said I appear to be walking on fishing-poles," said Peter. Mrs. Hemingway laughed. "They seem to be good, long, serviceable legs," she said, gaily. "But it is your eyes I recognized, Peter. One couldn't mistake your eyes." Peter smiled at her gratefully.
"Nobody could keep track of nobody else last night." "I thought I saw him this morning," said Dr. Hemingway. "But" hesitatingly "I do not believe I did either. I just had him in mind as I watched Henry Anderson's boys go by." "All three of us are not equal to one O'mie," Clayton Anderson declared. "What part of town did he have, Philip?" asked Le Claire. "No part," I answered.
If you must fall in love," suggested her ladyship, "promise me you will fall in love with" she paused innocently and raised baby-blue eyes, in a baby-like stare "with some one else." Again Hemingway promised. He bowed gallantly. "That will be quite easy," he said. Her ladyship smiled, but Hemingway did not see the smile.
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