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Updated: June 2, 2025
Hennage's grave, reading the epitaph. It impressed him so greatly that he copied the verse in a little morocco- covered memorandum book. "I wonder who was the genius that evolved that verse?" he muttered aloud, and to his great surprise a voice at his side answered him. It was a woman's voice.
Hennage's profession had never even warranted recourse to his two most priceless possessions his hands. Yet, despite this fact, and the further fact that he had never accomplished anything more reprehensible than staking his coin against that of his neighbor, Mr. Hennage had acquired the reputation of being the worst man in San Pasqual.
Hennage was informed by Sam Singer that his young mistress had boarded the train for Bakersfield three days previous, after informing Sam and his squaw that she would not return for two weeks. Under Mr. Hennage's critical cross-examination Soft Wind furnished the information that Donna had taken her white suit and all of her best clothes. "Ah," murmured Mr.
Pennycook called, but the nurse received her not, however, without an inward chuckle as she recalled Mr. Hennage's warning and discovered that Mrs. Pennycook's mouth did really resemble a new buttonhole as the mouth of every respectable, self-righteous, provincial female bigot has had a habit of resembling even as far back as the days of the Salem witchcraft. For her wine jelly, Mrs.
In the language of the country, he was a hard hombre, for he looked it. When one gazed at Mr. Hennage he observed a human bulldog, a man who would finish anything he started. Hence, he was credited with the ability and inclination to do the most impossible things if given half an excuse. It is needless, therefore, to remark that Mr. Hennage's depravity, like Mrs.
Hennage's small baleful eyes flicked murder lights as their glance burned into O'Rourke's wolfish soul. Then, quite calmly, he commenced placing his cards for a game of solitaire, and when he had carefully disposed of them he spoke: "O'Rourke!" The word was deep, throaty, almost a growl. Simultaneously the men nearest O'Rourke drifted quickly away from him. "Well?" "I don't like your game.
Hennage paused and glanced across the blistering half- mile of desert, to where the sun glinted on the dun walls of the Hat Ranch. In the middle distance a dashing girlish figure in a blue dress was walking up the tracks. Mr. Hennage's three gold teeth flashed like heliographs. "This world is so full o' a number o' things, I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings"
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