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Updated: June 15, 2025
"Yes, Abe," Morris commented as the door closed behind Hymie, "so liberal you must be with my money. Ain't I told you from the very start that feller is a lowlife? Tchampanyer he must drink it on his wife's birthday, Abe, and also he got to wear it diamonds, Abe, when he ain't got enough money to pay his laundry bill yet." "I ain't worrying, Mawruss," Abe replied.
"A lowlife bum which he makes always a hog of himself, why shouldn't we fire him? And then, Mawruss, when we are taking on Moe Greisman's nephew, Rabiner, what does that sucker Max Kirschner do? He turns around and fixes up with a feller by the name Sam Green, in Cyprus, to go as partners together in Sam Green's store up there.
"All I mean to say is that I am tired of waiting for that lowlife Rothschild, and I must get back to my store." "Wait a bit; I'll go downstairs with you," Marks broke in. As they walked down to the elevated road they exchanged further confidences, by which it appeared that Mr.
It was now Morris' turn to change color, and his face assumed a sickly hue of green. "How do you know that?" he gasped. "Because I was in Rifkin's old place when that lowlife Feinstein, what works for Henry D. Feldman, had charge of it after the failure; and I seen Feinstein strike them matches and put his seegar on the top from the desk."
"You see how it is? The feller is a desperate character, Uncle Mosha. You couldn't make him mad even." "A lowlife!" Uncle Mosha cried, shaking his head from side to side. "His mother before him was just such another like him. I could spit blood hollering at that woman and she wouldn't answer me back at all."
Once more he faced the Rav, who had sunk again into the chair. "Will it bring back your son to you if Tzwee Kovalenko dies?" he asked. The old man plucked at his beard. "He was my son, my only son," he said; "my Kaddish. A good son he was." Mrs. Levin, still at her dishwashing, raised her head and snorted impatiently. "Yow a good son!" she commented in English, "A dirty, lowlife bum he was.
"Just add four hundred dollars to them figures on that envelope, and you'll find out what that house costs you up to date." "What do you mean?" "Never mind what I mean, Mawruss," Abe said. "I'll tell you later what I mean. The thing is now, Mawruss, I got to know one thing and I got to know it quick. Where could I find this here lowlife brother-in-law of yours?" "Let me see," said Morris.
A lowlife, a gambler, hangs around liquor saloons all times of the night till he gets sick, y'understand, and then he must go to a hospital and get well on my money yet. I see myself!" "What hospital was it?" Aaron inquired. "The Mount Hebron Hospital," Uncle Mosha replied. "There is the catalogue now. They are sending it me this morning only."
Abe paused with his hand on the hatrack. "What d'ye mean?" he demanded. "I mean I am eating only a tongue sandwich and a cup coffee in Hammersmith's just now," Morris went on, "and who should I see at the next table but Louis Kleiman of Kleiman & Elenbogen. That's a dirty lowlife, that feller, Abe! A cut-throat like him should be making money in business!
It was headed, "The Advance Credit Clothing Company Marcus Bramson, Proprietor," and read as follows: MESSRS. POTASH & PERLMUTTER. GENTS: Your shipment of the 5th is to hand, and in reply would say that we are returning it via Blue Line on account Miss Tillie Bramson's engagement is broken. We understand that lowlife H. Maimin got into you for six hundred and fifty dollars.
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