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Updated: May 25, 2025
Eventually he hit upon it, and with a conscious effort, he pulled himself out of his chair, and went over to Masonic Hall to meet his sister Mirabelle. She had been attending a conference of the Ethical Reform League, and as Mr. Starkweather's car drew in to the curb, the reformers were just emerging to the sidewalk. He surveyed them, disparagingly.
Mix had shaken with consternation when he saw the advertisement of the Orpheum, Henry shook with far different sentiments when he saw the announcement in eulogy of Mr. Mix. It was clear in his mind, now, that Mr. Mix wasn't the sort of man to marry on speculation; Henry guessed that Mirabelle had confided to him the terms of the trust agreement, and that Mr.
Seeing as how I was drillin' around at 6:30 in a doorway up opposite the Café Caroni it looked like I would. But I'd seen Chuck Dempsey drift in all dolled up sporty, and then Mirabelle. As for Vincent, he was right on the dot, as usual. He wasn't tickled to death to find me waitin' for him, either. "Oh, I say, Torchy!" he protests. "You wouldn't want to make it a threesome, eh?" I suggests.
Wouldn't Mirabelle be sore if she knew about that, eh?" "She'd have cause for grindin' her teeth," says I. "Bully for Chuck, though. I must call him up and give him the hail. What's his number?" I will admit too, that once I got started, I worked fast.
And as long as they're spry enough and immodest enough to do all these new bunny dances and what not, you think that's a sure sign they'll make good wives and mothers. Humph. Makes me sick." In spite of himself, Henry lost his artificial grin, and began to turn dull red. "I wouldn't go quite so far as to say that." "Well," retorted Aunt Mirabelle, "I didn't hardly expect you would.
Starkweather smiled reminiscently and a trifle ruefully, and began to peel the band from a cigar. "What's the matter? Mirabelle say anything to you?" "Why nothing special." His uncle hesitated. "In a good many ways," he said, lowering his voice, "Mirabelle puts me in mind of my father.
"No, but I can hear pretty well," said Mirabelle. "I'm not deaf. And seems to me " She sniffled. "Seems to me you're making an awful funny start of things, Theodore." "My dear girl " "What?" "I just said 'my dear girl. I " "Say it again, Theodore!" To himself, Mr. Mix said something else, but for Mirabelle's benefit, he began a third time. "My dear girl, it's simply to evade the law, and "
"Well, when you do, you'll hear some fine news." Her lip curled. "Your friend Bob Standish's bought the business. Some of it, anyway. Bought it on a shoestring's my guess, but he's bought it." "I didn't know it, Aunt Mirabelle." "Well, they only closed the deal a few days ago." "Good for Bob!"
And then her sister Mirabelle, who found life such a serious condition to be in, and loved nothing about it, save the task of reforming it for other people whether the other people liked it or not. And finally, her brother John, bald, fat, and good-natured; a man whose personal interests were bounded by his own physical comfort, and by his desire to see everyone else equally comfortable.
Mirabelle don't know times have changed she's so busy with that cussed Reform League of hers, she don't have time to reform any of her own slants about things." He rolled his cigar under his tongue. "Well, I'm goin' to compromise. Before you get involved too deep, I want you to know what's in my mind.
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