Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 27, 2025
He had thought, earlier, that he wouldn't need that amendment as a personal weapon against Henry, but the value of it had appreciated by the possibility of losing it. As to the state-wide law, Mr. Mix was totally unconcerned. "Oh, yes, I have," he said. "Don't get too conceited, though, Theodore. The best part of it was mine." Mr. Mix's eagle eye saw a loophole.
And Bob Standish's attorney, who by a fiction was attacking Henry's position, had claimed that the Sunday show was designed for profit, and that the price was merely collected in advance. This would have been precisely Mr. Mix's thesis. Henry's own lawyer had replied that since there was no advance in the price of tickets during the week, there was no charge for Sunday.
Mix's voice had taken on, some months ago, a permanent quality of langour; and never, since the day that he was laughed out of politics, had he regained his former dignity and impressiveness. "Is that you smoking again?" "Why " "Are you? Answer me." "Why yes, dear I " "Come in here this minute." Mr. Mix emerged from the arbor. "Yes, dear?" She brandished her forefinger at him.
Meanwhile, the subject of reform crept out again to the front page of the morning papers. For nine months, Mr. Mix and Henry had occupied, mentally, the end seats on a see-saw, and as Henry's mood went down, Mr. Mix's mood went up. By strict fidelity to his own affairs, Mr.
I never did believe a married woman ought to be in the road all the time." "It was a question of your career, then?" Mirabelle put down her cup. "Humph! No, it wasn't. Right man never asked me." Mr. Mix's mind was on tiptoe. "But your standards are so lofty naturally, they would be." He paused. "I wonder what your standard really is. Is it unapproachable? Or do you see some good in most of us?"
"Well," said Mrs. Fox, firmly, as if the name clenched the matter, "it must be STOPPED, that's all! Sally Mix! I hope she's WHITE!" Just a week later, in Palo Alto, California, Anthony Fox slammed the gate of Miss Mix's garden loudly behind him, and eyed the Mix homestead with disapproval.
These reform crowds always start out to be a band-wagon, and if they kept their senses, they could do some real good and then they march so fast that pretty soon they find they've winded everybody else, and there isn't any parade. All they need is rope. Give 'em enough of it, and they always hang themselves. That speech of Mix's has done more harm to the League than it has good.
"Of course," he panted, "everybody else'll do it too, as soon as we've showed 'em how " "What what difference does that make?" "That's right, too...." He fairly doubled himself with mirth. "Can't you just see Mix's face when he sees this writing on the wall of the Orpheum?" "I I've been seeing it all afternoon. When can we start?" "Right away. Now." He stopped, rigid. "No, we won't either.
His first reaction was one of bewilderment, and after that, one of consternation. His friend Bob Standish tried to laugh it off for him, but Henry hadn't a smile in his system. "All right, then," said Bob Standish. "Go see the judge. He'll tell you the same thing. Mix's nothing but a bag of wind. He's an old blowhard." "Maybe he is," conceded Henry, soberly.
Indeed, she had implied, a few moments ago, that marriage would cramp her activities; but it was significant that she hadn't belittled the institution. Perhaps if she were skilfully managed, she might even be modernized. Certainly she had been content, so far, to be guided by Mr. Mix's conservatism. He hoped that he was right, and he trusted in his own strategy even if he were wrong.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking