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Updated: June 15, 2025
"Not on your fat life!" said Bull Cassidy. "I got one wing that's workin' and I'm goin' to fly her till she gits busted." "Let's clean 'em up! Might's well do a good job now we're at it. Where's Bud?" "He's layin' over there back of the chicken-roost. Reckon he's thinkin' things over. He ain't sayin' much." "Bud down, too? Then I guess we ride!" And they swept out after Shorty.
"Ye might's well give up!... God, ye're all the sweeter fer havin' to fight like I been doin'!" By a motion, extraordinarily quick for so big a man, he clutched her bodily, and dragged her to him. She lowered her face against his chest and buried it under her curls. "I air goin' to kiss ye, my pretty wench," muttered Letts. "Gimme yer lips, gimme "
Yes, thou art the child Of great Saturnius ZEUS. Ha! thou thoughtless one! Shall Zeus, to please a woman's stubbornness, Bid planets whirl, and bid the suns stand still? Zeus will do so! oft has a god's descendant Ripped up the fire-impregnate womb of rocks, And yet his might's confined to Tellus' bounds Zeus only can do this! ZEUS. Ha! Cadmus' daughter asks Kronion if Kronion e'er can love!
"You haven't told them boardin' house tattletales about the Emmie, you go fetch me a card of matches from the kitchen, won't you of what's been found out about that Thomas thing?" "Course I ain't. Didn't Peabody say not to tell a soul till we was sure? S'pose I'd tell Keturah and Angie? Might's well paint it on a sign and be done with it. No, no! I've kept mum and you do the same.
"Oh, I say, Torchy!" says he, after starin' at me a second. "What's the sense?" "I don't claim there's any sense to it," says I. "It was the simplest stunt you ever saw. We just went and dug, that's all. But there was the stuff. And we got away with it. You might's well get used to believing though, for I'm applyin' right now for a block of Corrugated preferred.
Dar's sho' nuff wot de papahs calls er armerstice 'twixt de berlig'rant pahties ya-as'm! De berry wust has happen' already, so yo' folkses might's well git ca'm git ca'm." The old colored man's philosophy delighted the doctor's wife so much that she had to laugh.
"Then you will join the choir?" she pursued, failing to fathom the meaning of that humble acquiescence. Any other boy or man of her acquaintance would have taken her remark as openly provocative. "Oh, yes," he agreed listlessly. "I'm so glad..." He thanked her, but avoided her eye. "We might's well begin to-night," she suggested presently, with diffident, downcast eyes. "What the choir?"
He might's well do the 'Harbor, 'cause that's only one place an' he can't blunder much seems if. You take the streets, same's he said; and I if you'll put a needle an' thread through me, bime-by, after he's found, I'll go find him an' call it square. I'll begin to the lowest down end the city hospitals they is an' I'll interview 'em, one by one, clean up to the Bronx.
You can send Tony for her when he gets back, though how he'll find her I don't know. You might's well hunt for a needle in a haystack as to track down Melviny. She's liable to be most anywheres tendin' babies or trimmin' bunnits; an' Tony's such a numskull." "I guess we can locate her."
After a few seconds he examined the mirror, and whispered: "Nary a sign might's well tell the boys." The announcement of Twitchett's death was the signal for an animated discussion and considerable betting. How much dust he had washed, and what he had done with it, seeing that he neither drank nor gambled, was the sole theme of discussion.
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