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Mix wiped away a stray bead of perspiration, and breathed more freely. With Mirabelle's money to back him, and the stigma of those two pamphlets removed, perhaps he had a fighting chance for the mayoralty yet. It was a house-wedding, with very few guests, no decorations, and perfectly digestible refreshments.
I mean, Aunt Mirabelle's sore on general principles, and Mix is sore because I wouldn't come up and eat out of his hand and get myself sheared. We won't fight. We'll outwit 'em." "But how?" "Now that question," he said reproachfully, "was mighty tactless. I don't know how. But I know I'm not going to stick my head over the ramparts for 'em to shoot at. I'm no African Dodger I'm an impresario.
It was his own demand note, payable to John Starkweather and endorsed by him to Mirabelle. The word "Cancelled" was written, in Mirabelle's angular hand, across the face of it. As Henry and his wife went down the steps, they exchanged glances and smiled faintly. "First time I've been in that house for seven months," said Henry, half to himself. "It's a bully old shack, too.
Only if Mirabelle's got any grounds, maybe I ought to say it over again.... You been out of college four years now, and you tried the automobile business for two months and the bond business for two weeks and the real-estate business for two minutes, and there you quit.
Offer a big enough rent so they'll have to accept so they'd get more out of us than if they opened up. Then they can't buy back from Henry and he's over a thousand short. I know he is. And if you don't do it " His gesture was dramatic. Mirabelle's expression, as she wiped her eyes, was a pot-pourri of sentiments. "Humph! Can't say I like the idea much, kind of too tricky." Mr.
Involuntary bankruptcy found his sanctimonious old cashier'd been sanctimoniously lootin' the till for eighteen years." He paused, and eyed his cigar. "Well, Mirabelle's cut more or less off the same piece. Lord, I wish she could go through some kind of bankruptcy, if 't would shake her up like it did father." "It shook him up, did it?" inquired Henry, fidgeting.
He slammed down the receiver, rattled the hook impetuously, and called Mirabelle's number. "Mirabelle ... good-morning; have you ... No, I'm not cross at you, but Oh! Good-morning, dear.... This is important. Have you seen the Orpheum's ad in the Herald? Isn't that the most barefaced thing you ever saw? Don't we want to rush in and " She interrupted him.
"Buggy-riding's a generic term. Don't blush. I was young myself, once." Mr. Mix fought down his anger. "You're very much of a joker, Henry. It seems to run in the family. Your uncle " "Yes, and Aunt Mirabelle, too." "What?" "Oh, yes," said Henry. "Aunt Mirabelle's a joker, too.
And the cream of that joke is that Aunt Mirabelle's outfit'd get itself endowed for putting me out of commission!" "They won't do it, Henry. These organizations always make the same mistake. They go too far. They aren't talking reform; they're talking revolution, and people won't stand for it.
In fact, Chuck was just reachin' playful for one of Mirabelle's hands and he was gettin' away with the act. "Why," says I, "it looks like the S.R.O. sign was out already." Yes, it was a bit raw for Vincent. He shows his polite bringin' up though. No rash moves or hasty words from him. He backs out graceful, even if he is a bit pale about the gills.
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