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Updated: June 8, 2025
MR. KEARNS: How did the women of California find out and learn where the President stood on this thing just before election last fall? Nobody else seemed to know it. MR. RAKER: They knew it. MR. KEARNS: How did they find it out? MR. RAKER: I will take a minute or two MR. KEARNS: I wish the gentleman would. MR. RAKER: The President went home and registered.
"You remind me so much of Tessie Kearns," he said as he scraped the sides of the egg cup. "Who's she?" "Oh, she's a scenario writer I know. You're just like her." He was now drunk maudlin drunk from the coffee. Sober, he would have known that no human beings could be less alike than Tessie Kearns and the Montague girl. Other walls of his reserve went down.
And Metta Judson she was the best cook anywhere around Simsbury. He mustn't forget to write to Metta, and to Tessie Kearns, to be sure and see The Blight of Broadway when it came to the Bijou Palace. They would be surprised to see those close ups that Henshaw had used him in. And he was in that other picture.
"We'll sure hump you if you-all come in," Daylight warned him. "It's an almighty good hunch," Kearns said, adding his slip for two thousand to the growing heap. "I can feel her crawlin' up and down my back." "I ain't got a hunch, but I got a tolerable likeable hand," Campbell announced, as he slid in his slip; "but it's not a raising hand." "Mine is," Daylight paused and wrote.
Men like Wall and Keith and Kearns and Walker were not terrorized; but McCornick and Jackling and the representatives of the American Smelting and Refining Company either surrendered to a discreet silence or openly joined the Church in the campaign.
Kearns asked of MacDonald. "Got enough," was the reply. "You can draw if you want to, you know," Kearns warned him. "Nope; this'll do me." Kearns himself drew two cards, but did not look at them. Still Harnish let his cards lie. "I never bet in the teeth of a pat hand," he said slowly, looking at the saloon-keeper. "You-all start her rolling, Mac."
A painfully cross-eyed man in misfitting clothes was doing something supposed to be funny pushing a lawn mower over the carpet of a palatial home. "How disgusting!" exclaimed Miss Kearns. "Ain't it?" said Merton. "How they can have one of those terrible things on the same bill with Miss Baxter I can't understand it."
Here Perk found them both as he came full tilt around the corner, realizing something not down on the bills as far as his knowledge went, must have taken place. "Jack what's happened are you bad hurt, buddy?" Perk demanded excitedly as he bent down over his chum. "All right only had to use the tear-gas again be better right off don't let Kearns get away on your life!"
I'm only good for ten more." He leaned forward and looked at Kearns. "So I call that ten thousand." "You can raise if you want," Kearns answered. "Your dogs are good for five thousand in this game." "Nary dawg. You-all can win my dust and dirt, but nary one of my dawgs. I just call." MacDonald considered for a long time. No one moved or whispered.
And of course no one with any real ambition or capacity could consider such a thing descending to rough horse-play for the amusement of the coarser element among screen patrons. But there was one impression from the day's whirl that remained clear and radiant: He had looked at the veritable face of his heroine. He began his letter to Tessie Kearns. "At last I have seen Miss Baxter face to face.
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