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Updated: May 14, 2025
It signifies a bi-weekly manicure, femininely administered; a hotel lobbyist who can outstare a seatless guest; the sang-froid to add up a dinner check; spats. When Mr. Kessler tipped, it did not clink; it rustled. In theater, at each interval between acts, he piled out over ladies' knees and returned chewing a mint.
Now what in hell do you think of that?" "I knew Dick Kessler," said Trevison, soberly. "He was honest." "Square as a dollar!" violently affirmed Lefingwell. "It's too bad," sympathized Trevison. "That places you in a mighty bad fix. If there's anything I can do for you, why " "Mr. 'Brand' Trevison?" said a voice at Trevison's elbow.
"How how dared you! It's after two, and " Miss Goldstone began then to jump again upon her toes, linking her arm in his. "Tell her, Leon! Tell her! Oh, Mamma Hat! Mamma Hat!" She was suddenly in Mrs. Goldstone's arms, her ardent face burning through the white wrapper. Mr. Kessler removed his cap, flinging it upward again and catching it. "Tell her, Leon!"
When most of his piano music has gone the way of all things fashioned by mortal hands, these studies will endure, will stand for the nineteenth century as Beethoven crystallized the eighteenth, Bach the seventeenth centuries in piano music. Chopin is a classic. The Preludes bear the opus number 28 and are dedicated to J. C. Kessler, a composer of well-known piano studies.
Lastly, I keep myself warm, and look like a girl. Chopin to Fontana; Marseilles, March 6, 1839: My health is still improving; I begin to play, eat, walk, and speak, like other men; and when you receive these few words from me you will see that I again write with ease. But once more of business. The Polonaises, as they are, to you and to Kessler.
Well, not digressin' any, she ain't! She ain't even nowheres clear a-tall she ain't even there! She's wiped off, slick an' clean! There ain't a damned line to show that I ever bought my land from Dick Kessler, an' there ain't nothin' on no record to show that Dick Kessler ever owned it! What in hell do you think of that?
Miss Becker thrust herself from a hastily-found-out aperture, patting, with final touch, her belt into place. "Have I been asking you for five years, Kess, to knock before you poke your head in on us girls?" Mr. Leon Kessler appeared then fully between the curtains, letting them drape heavily behind him.
"And what?" "She just came home engaged!" "My God! Effie?" He blinked in the darkness, drawing up his knees to a hump under the sheet. "Engaged how?" "I.W., don't you remember? Wake up, honey. To Kess, to Leon Kessler that she went automobiling with." "Our Effie engaged to Leon Kessler?" "Yes, I.W. our little Effie!"
This Baron Kessler is quite a character very clever, very artistic, very musical, and, strange to say, very superstitious. For instance, he wears an old waistcoat which has certain magical grease-spots on Fridays; on Mondays his purse must be in the left pocket of his coat, on Thursdays in his right pocket.
If it happens again that you get rung up supper-time, I " "It was Leon Kessler, pop; he didn't leave on the six-two. Can you beat it? Down at the station he got to thinking of me and turned back. Oh, my golly! how the boys love me!" She was jumping now on the tips of her toes, her black curls bouncing. "You don't tell me!" said Mr. Goldstone.
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