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Updated: June 20, 2025
"No I'm not sure," said my father; and he mentioned how Jonas Uggleston seemed to be watching him. "That's bad. But never mind; the place is yours. Have you got your deeds?" "No," said my father, "Lawyer Markley said they would be ready in a day or two. That was last week." "Take the pony and ride over to Barnstaple at once, and get them.
"Oh, bury me deep in the ocean blue, Where the roaring billows laugh; Oh, cast me away on the weltering sea, Where the dolphins will bite me in half." Now, Mr. Grady, if you can find a competent assassin, I wouldn't make it a point with him to oblige Mr. Markley. I don't care particularly to have the poet buried in the weltering sea.
Markley had met when she was boarding during the week they moved, gathered to hear the orchestra from Kansas City, to eat the Topeka caterer's food, and to fall down on the newly-waxed floors of the Markley mansion. But our professional instinct at the office told us that the town was eager for news of that house, and we took three columns to write up the reception.
Isn't that awful slush? Now, isn't it? And then, if the room is dark, what I want to know is how he's going to tell whether her eyes are smiling or not? Mr. Grady, either the man is insane or I am; and if your butcher is going to stab Markley, you'll oblige me by telling him that I want him to jab him deep, and maybe fill him up with poison or something to make it absolutely certain.
Take dem, und gedt oudt." Glad enough to escape, Markley hastily thanked his employer, and, snatching up the pink slips, made for the door. Outside, Redman and Jennings were waiting. "Come on," said Jennings, as Markley waved the checks, "let's get out of here. Old Madero may be along at any minute, and they say he hangs you up by the thumbs, and "
Gunning talked straight ahead without paying any attention to our laughter. If it ever had been funny to her it had ceased to be so. She had not brought Captain Markley there to amuse him. "Look at that Shanghai rooster now," says she. "I brought him up from the South. I put him among the hens and they picked all his feathers off. He was as bare, captain, as your hand. He was literally hen-pecked.
As we parted, looking up at the stars where our ways divided out under the elms, we heard, far up Exchange Street, the clatter of the pianola in the Markley home, and saw the high windows glowing like lost souls in the night. "A Bundle of Myrrh" One of the first things that a new reporter on our paper has to learn is the kinology of the town.
Not in the same line, are you?" And he glances towards our crowd, that's pilin' out of the cars and gazin' puzzled towards us. "Do we look it?" says I. "No, what we was plannin' to pull off here was a weddin'. That's the groom there my boss, Mr. Robert Ellins." "Bob Ellins!" says Whitey. "Whe-e-ew!" "Mrs. Markley must have forgot," says I. "Makes it kind of awkward for us, though."
He struggled on in the soft unaccustomed tyranny of the grass, the glare of sun, with his mind set on the close of day. He thought of cool shadows, of city streets wet at night, and a swift plunge into a river where it swept about the thrust of a wharf. He wondered what Doctor Markley would say about Flavilla; probably the child wasn't seriously sick.
She used to dress unlike anybody else, in foreign things that her aunt gave her, and was always carrying different kinds of thin scarfs to throw over her face and tantalize the men. Everybody knew that Captain Markley would marry her if he could. But along comes Dr.
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