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Updated: May 31, 2025
ONE of us has got to be all right surely God wouldn't mind just ONE of us being all right that wouldn't hurt Him " "Hush, hush, mother! Hush!" But Mrs. Adams only clutched her the more tightly. "He seemed SUCH a nice young man, dearie! He may not see this in the paper Mr. Lohr said it was just a little bit of an item he MAY not see it, dearie "
A dozen times, as he lay there beside his equally sleepless companion, he started to say something more in deprecation of the step, but each time stifled the opening word into a groan. It would not be true to say that love had come to Albert Lohr as a relaxing influence, but it had changed the direction of his energies so radically as to make his whole life seem weaker and lower.
If it had to go through a lot of other people, the way it would if I put it in the mail, why, you can't tell. So what I thought: if you'd hand it to him for me, and maybe if he happened to read it right then, or anything, it might be you'd notice whatever he'd happen to say about it and you could tell me afterward." "All right," Lohr said.
Old Charley Lohr assured him that he would speak a good word if opportunity became available; then, after the cab had driven away, he went up to his small apartment on the third floor and muttered ruminatively until his wife inquired what he was talking to himself about. "Ole Virg Adams," he told her.
"Of course not fortunes o' war. Nobody to blame; just my carelessness. Yes; I'll take turkey," he said to Maud, as he sank into the seat of honor. The rest laughed, but Brann remained standing near Albert's chair. He had not finished yet. "I'm mighty glad you don't lay it up against me, Lohr; an' I want to say the doctor's bill is all right; you un'erstand, it's all right."
"No," said Adams. "I been thinking I might likely kind of branch out on my own account." "Well, I'll be doggoned!" Old Charley Lohr was amazed; he ruffled up his gray moustache with thumb and forefinger, leaving his mouth open beneath, like a dark cave under a tangled wintry thicket. "Why, that's the doggonedest thing I ever heard!" he said.
And as over the theatres in letters of fire were written the names of the stars in the London firmament Marie Lohr, Moscovitch, Elsie Janis so over, all over, Lady Sellingworth seemed to be written for Craven to read: "I am really not a Bohemian." "Do you genuinely wish Lady Sellingworth to finish the evening at the Cafe Royal?" he asked of his companion. "Yes. They would love her there.
I'll do anything you want me to, you understand." "Wait a minute," Adams said, and, groaning, came and went down the stairs with him. "You say you didn't see the old man at all?" "No, I don't know a thing about what he's going to do," Lohr said, as they reached the lower floor. "Not a thing.
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