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Updated: June 19, 2025
"You are too particular, Aunt Marg. What if every seam isn't bound just as you like it? Your general make-up is always superb. By the way, who was that girl in black who just came in and went up stairs?" the young man concluded, as if it had only just occurred to him to inquire regarding her. "Oh, that was Ruth Richards, my seamstress; she had just been out on an errand," Mrs.
Marg can play on one and get him plumb riled up to anythin'; Nella-Rose can twist him around her finger and make him act like the Second Coming." Conning called a halt. "What's the Second Coming?" he asked, his eyes twinkling. "Meaning? good as a Bible character," Jim explained huffily. "Gawd, man! do your own thinkin'. I can't talk an' splanify ter onct." "Oh! I see. Well, go on, Jim."
When he disappeared, she believed Nella-Rose was with him, but she had supported and embellished her father's story concerning them because it secured her own self-respect and covered the tracks of the degenerate pair with a shield that they in no wise deserved, but which put their defenders in a truly Christian attitude. Marg was alone in the cabin when Lois Ann entered.
Yo' might freeze or starve. Agin, a lurking beast, hunting fo' food, might chaw yo' fo' yo' got yo' senses." Something of this Greyson explained to his guest while setting forth the evening meal and apologizing for the lack of stimulant. "Being her marriage trip I let Marg have her way and a mind free o' worry 'bout me. But women don't understand, God bless 'em! What's a drop in yo' own home?
If you start now you can be back by sundown." To Marg's surprise, Nella-Rose offered no protest to the seven-mile walk, nor to the heavy load. She promptly pulled her sunbonnet to the proper angle on her head and gripped the basket. "Ain't you goin' to eat first?" asked Marg. "No. Put in a bite; I'll eat it by the way."
Pretty Elspet Zohrer, with whom she had contended for the recruiting officer, Pyramus Kogel, was standing opposite to her, by her partner's side, in the same row with charming little Mietz Schiltl, Anne Mirl Woller, her cousin, Marg Thun, and the others.
Pete's forbears drank wine and talked like lords; Pete has ter rely on mountain dew and that accounts fur the difference in his goin's-on; but once he's sober, he's quality is Pete. Pete's got two darters Marg an' Nella-Rose. Old Doc McPherson use' ter call 'em types, whatever that means. Marg is a type, sure and sartin, but Nella-Rose is a little no-count that's what I say.
Such a status, however, does not seem to be claimed for them and none of the texts suggest that this is so. The slaughter, therefore, remains an enigma. From the Brihadaranyaka, quoted A. Danielou, 'An Approach to Hindu Erotic Sculpture, Marg, Vol. II, No. i, 88.
And as the winter advanced, Marg, worn in mind and body, was brought face to face with stern reality. Autumn was gone though the languorous hours belied it. She must prepare. So she gathered her forces her garden products that could be exchanged for necessities; the pork; the wool; all, all that could be spared, she must set in circulation.
The look on her face might well stay the reproaches on Marg's lips she almost reeled back as the deep, true eyes met hers. All the smothered sisterliness came to the surface for an instant as she trembled and drew near to the two in the old chintz-covered rocker. "See! my baby, Marg. She is lil' Ann." "Ann what?" whispered Marg. "Just lil' Ann for Miss Lois Ann."
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