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It isn't a question of being happy here; no one is happy, in that old, selfish way, or can be; but he could have been of great use." "Perhaps he was of use in dying. Who knows? He may have been trying to silence Lindau." "Oh, Lindau wasn't worth it!" cried Mrs. March. Miss Vance looked at her as if she did not quite understand. Then she turned to March.
He could write it out in his kind of Dutch, and we could get Lindau to translate it." "I guess not," said March, dryly. "Why not? He'd do it for the cause, wouldn't he? Suppose you put it up on him the next time you see him." "I don't see Lindau any more," said March. He added, "I guess he's renounced me along with Mr. Dryfoos's money." "Pshaw! You don't mean he hasn't been round since?"
"That would tebendt," said Lindau, trying to control himself. "If you hat inheritedt your money, you might pe innocent; but if you hat mate it, efery man that resbectedt himself would haf to ask how you mate it, and if you hat mate moch, he would know " "Hold on; hold on, now, Lindau! Ain't that rather un-American doctrine?
But it was not Lindau who was dead, for the woman said he was at home, and sent March stumbling up the four or five dark flights of stairs that led to his tenement. It was quite at the top of the house, and when March obeyed the German-English "Komm!" that followed his knock, he found himself in a kitchen where a meagre breakfast was scattered in stale fragments on the table before the stove.
Lindau, and securing from him the assurance that in the expression of his peculiar views he had no intention of offering any personal offence to Mr. Dryfoos. If I have formed a correct estimate of Mr. Lindau, this will be perfectly simple." Fulkerson shook his head. "But it wouldn't help. Dryfoos don't care a rap whether Lindau meant any personal offence or not.
March tried to believe that the case was the same, as it stood now; it seemed to him that he was always going to or from the hospital; he said to himself that it must do Lindau harm to be visited so much. But he knew that this was not true when he was met at the door of the ward where Lindau lay by the young doctor, who had come to feel a personal interest in March's interest in Lindau.
"The working-classes shall be responsible to the leisure class for the support of its dignity in peace, and shall be subject to its command in war. The rich shall warrant the poor against planless production and the ruin that now follows, against danger from without and famine from within, and the poor " "No, no, no!" shouted Lindau. "The State shall do that the whole beople.
But I suppose there have to be just such cranks; it takes all kinds to make a world." "There has to be one such crank, it seems," March partially assented. "One's enough for me." "I reckon this thing is nuts for Lindau, too," said Fulkerson. "Why, it must act like a schooner of beer on him all the while, to see 'gabidal' embarrassed like it is by this strike.
The colonel bent his eyes sharply on Fulkerson; Miss Woodburn let hers fall; Fulkerson felt that he was being tested, and he said, to gain time, "As between Lindau and Dryfoos?" though he knew this was not the point. "As between Mr. Dryfoos and Mr. March," said the colonel. Fulkerson drew a long breath and took his courage in both hands. "There can't be any choice for me in such a case.
He thought he would particularly like his illustrator to render the Dickensy, cockneyish quality of the shabby-genteel ballad-seller of whom he stopped to ask his way to the street where Lindau lived, and whom he instantly perceived to be, with his stock in trade, the sufficient object of an entire study by himself.
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