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They passed resolutions "reaffirming their sympathy with the great world movement for woman suffrage"; "heartily approved" of the Federal Amendment; pledged their "untiring support" of the State referendum; spoke at legislative hearings; raised money; addressed meetings; appointed a State committee of 63 members which met monthly; appointed a committee with George M. Strobell, chairman, that marched in the parade in Newark, Oct. 25, 1913; held a mass meeting in Elizabeth at which Mayor George L. LaMonte and Mrs.

Lamonte enjoys slipping off discretely on occasion to hear some... jazz..." Putting both palms on the table, she whispered. "The way I sometimes slip off to sing... Schubert." Jurgen laughed and sat back in his chair. "Schubert." He did not feel particularly surprised; she probably sang all of Schubert's lieder beautifully.

Miss Edna herself is a flighty thing she can hardly paint her own lips with both hands." Jurgen laughed, then bent forward and cupped his glass the way Mabel cupped hers, rolling it between his palms. Mabel had such a way of expressing herself. "Now Edna's lover-boy is a man named Lamonte. I don't know what he sees in Edna to look at her you wouldn't think she can do anything right." She winked.

"With a little help from Edna getting Lamonte in to hear you play you'll have something decent in no time." She sipped her bourbon slowly, regarding him. "It won't be difficult." "Why not?" "Oh," she replied, moving closer with narrowed eyes. "I know his secret Dotty told me. Our Mr.

"Miss Edna's got something softer than brains; and it's not in her head." Only the first part of what she said really caught his attention. "You're speaking of Laurence Lamonte, the conductor?" He took a quick sip of bourbon and rolled the glass again between his palms, wondering where she was leading; almost seeing it. "That's the man," Mabel replied with a firm nod of her head.

This I verified later. We had with us also "Blanche Lamonte," the actress, of Klondike fame, and several other "fairies" and minor stars who had decided to add luster to histrionic art at Nome. It was a series of "concerts" which brought out, as it were, the pièces de résistance.

The city was familiar to him, as a professional musician: it boasted a fine orchestra whose conductor, one Laurence Lamonte, frequently found shockingly intimate details of his flamboyant life splashed across the pages of the tabloids.