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Updated: May 28, 2025
But there was not a word spoken. I remember noticing Fred McKelvey, when the German who stood in front of him told him to take off his equipment. Fred's manner was halting, and reluctant, and he said, as he laid down his rifle and unbuckled his cartridge bag, "This is the thing my father told me never to let happen."
And talking! All your American women, they know so much culture and that sort of thing. This Mrs. McKelvey your friend " "Yuh, old Lucile. Good kid." " she asked me which of the galleries I liked best in Florence. Or was it in Firenze? Never been in Italy in my life! And primitives. Did I like primitives. Do you know what the deuce a primitive is?" "Me? I should say not!
They spoke of a "jungle dance" for which Mona Dodsworth had decorated her house with thousands of orchids. They spoke, with an excellent imitation of casualness, of a dinner in Washington at which McKelvey had met a Senator, a Balkan princess, and an English major-general. McKelvey called the princess "Jenny," and let it be known that he had danced with her.
But as he went through the corridor of the Reeves Building he sighed, "Poor old Paul! I got to Oh, damn Noel Ryland! Damn Charley McKelvey! Just because they make more money than I do, they think they're so superior. I wouldn't be found dead in their stuffy old Union Club! I Somehow, to-day, I don't feel like going back to work. Oh well "
All the boys, McKelvey, Keith, Clarke, Johnston, Graham, Walker, Smith, Reid, Diplock, Palmer, Larkins, Gould, Salter, Mudge, and many others whom I did not know so well, gathered around us and wanted to know how we had fared, and the story of our attempt and subsequent punishment formed the topic of conversation for days.
James McKelvey, a lawyer, and nephew of my husband, drew my will and I executed it, settled my business and wrote a statement of the Visiter trouble that it might live if I ceased to do so, then went to bed, sent for Miles Brown to come to my room, and saw him alone. He was a Pennsylvanian, who had the reputation of being a dead shot, and had a pair of fine revolvers.
Say, you seem kind of glum. What's matter?" "Oh, the usual. Run-in with Zilla." "Come on! Let's wade in and forget our troubles." He kept Paul beside him, but worked toward the spot where Charles McKelvey stood warming his admirers like a furnace.
He was bright and referential with McKelvey: "Say, Charley, juh remember in Junior year how we chartered a sea-going hack and chased down to Riverdale, to the big show Madame Brown used to put on? Remember how you beat up that hick constabule that tried to run us in, and we pinched the pants-pressing sign and took and hung it on Prof. Morrison's door? Oh, gosh, those were the days!"
For no reason that was clear to Babbitt, heaviness was over them and they spoke laboriously and unwillingly. He concentrated on Lucille McKelvey, carefully not looking at her blanched lovely shoulder and the tawny silken bared which supported her frock. "I suppose you'll be going to Europe pretty soon again, won't you?" he invited. "I'd like awfully to run over to Rome for a few weeks."
McKelvey snarled, "That means you're not going to join, George?" Something black and unfamiliar and ferocious spoke from Babbitt: "Now, you look here, Charley! I'm damned if I'm going to be bullied into joining anything, not even by you plutes!" "We're not bullying anybody," Dr. Dilling began, but Colonel Snow thrust him aside with, "Certainly we are!
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