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Updated: May 2, 2025
I was always in the open air. The sort of life we live here suits me, though I haven't made much money as yet." "The boy, I think, would do. He looks like a hustler. I need only look at his face to know that he'd be honest and faithful. What is your name, boy?" "Ernest Ray." "That's a good name. You'll only have to live up to it to the first part of it, I mean. Then you accept my offer?"
"I wish you would come down to the office in about half an hour," she said, ".... Directors' meeting. All right. Thank you." "What was it dad used to call me sometimes his 'Little Hustler'?" she thought. "If he could see, I'll bet that's what he would call me now." As she passed through the hall she looked in the drawing room to tell Helen where she was going.
In the noise and bustle of the work the motor came to a stop unobserved behind a long wooden structure which Nora diagnosed as the "grub shack." "In your English speech, Mr. Romayne, the dining room of the camp. He is certainly a hustler," exclaimed Nora, gazing upon the scene before them. "Who?" inquired Mrs. Waring-Gaunt. "Ernest Switzer," said Nora, unable to keep the grudge out of her voice.
He always has such luck, and comes out safe and sound wherever he is. Father says Val's a hustler, and that nothing can keep in the road with him. But he's a little wild a little. Still, we don't hector him, Sergeant Tom; hectoring never does any good, does it?" "No, hectoring never does any good. And as for the wildness, if the heart of him's right, why that's easy out of him whin he's older.
Crane was something of a hustler himself one of those busy Americans who opens his daily life with an office-key and closes it with a letter for the late mail. He was a restless, wiry, black-eyed little man, never still for a moment, and perpetually in chase of another eluding dollar, which half the time he caught. Then, laying his hand on Babcock's arm: "And she's square as a brick, too.
"I wonder, Colonel, if it satisfies anybody to be a hustler and a millionaire." "Satisfies?" echoed the Colonel, pushing his chin over the bed-clothes. "Who expects to be satisfied?" "Why, every man, woman and child on the top o' the earth; and it just strikes me I've never, personally, known anybody get there but these fellas at Holy Cross."
He went, not unwillingly, or altogether willingly. "I should think you might come and say 'Good morning' to me, Mr. Winton. I'm not Uncle Somerville," said Miss Carteret. Winton said "Good morning," not too graciously, and Adams mocked him. "Besides being a bear with a sore head, Miss Carteret thinks you're not much of a hustler, Jack," he said coolly.
"Because I know you are anxious to get hold of another young man on whom you can rely implicitly, and I believe Morgan is the man you want. I know him. He's a hustler. I give you my word that he's the very man for you." "You know him well, do you, Wallace? Of course there are plenty of young men we can get, but we're looking for the right one. If you say Mr. Morgan is " "I do.
"Well, great George Washington!" murmured Julius to himself as he replaced the receiver on the hook and reinserted his pipe in his mouth, to emit immediately thereafter a mighty puff of smoke. "I knew the fellow was a hustler, but I should suppose that when he comes up from South America to telephone he might spend sixty or seventy seconds at it.
The Bald-faced Kid, who lived by doing the best he could and preferred to be called a hustler rather than a tout, spoke from the tack-room interior. He was a privileged character at the Curry barn. "How does she look, old-timer? Going to clear up by noon?" Old Man Curry shook his head. "Well, no," said he. "I reckon not. Looks to me like reg'lar Noah weather, Frank.
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