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Updated: May 7, 2025
A regular Woof-Woofer and bite their heads off. About the time he came up for re-election, a lot of Character-Assassins tried to shell-road him and hand him the Guff and crowd him into the 9-hole. They said he had been flirting with the Corporations and sitting in on Jack-Pots and smearing himself at the Pie Counter. Did they secure his Goat by such crude Methods?
The room was full of smoke, empty glasses stood beside the players, and piles of red and blue and white "chips" were heaped in uneven distribution along the edges of the table. "It is ten minutes of twelve, gentlemen," the servant said, and retired. "Jack-pots round," said Rangely, dealing rapidly. "Look lively now."
Get platonic, if you please. No jack-pots for mine. Go and hate your friend some more. For me the Nickerson girl on Avenue B, and gum, and a trolley ride. "Around that night comes John W. Croesus. 'What! tears? says he, arranging his pearl pin. 'You have driven my lover away, says little Alice, sobbing: 'I hate the sight of you. 'Marry me, then, says John W., lighting a Henry Clay.
I'll play you just two out of three jack-pots between the two of us. You see my stake." "But mine?" "You can make it even by writing one name and correctly here on a piece of paper. Full value yes, ten times as much as mine! You are giving odds, man!" "I don't understand you." "You don't want to understand me. Come, now.
To the westward it was fierce funny little black kinky- heads, man-eaters the last Jack of them, and the jackpot fat and spilling over with wealth " "Jack-pots?" Fatty queried. At sight of an irritable movement, he added: "You see, I never got over to the West like Delarouse and you." "They're all head-hunters. Heads are valuable, especially a white man's head.
Finally, at half-past four, at a time when Condy was precisely where he had started, neither winner nor loser by so much as a dime, a round of Jack-pots was declared, and the game broke up. Condy walked home to the uptown hotel where he lived with his mother, and went to bed as the first milk-wagons began to make their appearance and the newsboys to cry the morning papers.
Get platonic, if you please. No jack-pots for mine. Go and hate your friend some more. For me the Nickerson girl on Avenue B, and gum, and a trolley ride. "Around that night comes John W. Croesus. 'What! tears? says he, arranging his pearl pin. 'You have driven my lover away, says little Alice, sobbing: 'I hate the sight of you. 'Marry me, then, says John W., lighting a Henry Clay.
"Well, I have got a full hand," Lionel answered, putting down his hand on the table. "That is good enough," the other said, stolidly. "Take away the money." After this dire combat, the game fell flat a little; but interest was soon revived by a round of Jack-pots; and here again Lionel was in good luck.
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