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Abe was unstrapping his suitcase as he spoke, and the next minute he shook out the gown he had purchased from the young lady of the Cafe de la Paix, and exposed it to Moe's admiring gaze. "How did you get hold of that, Abe?" Moe asked. Abe narrated his adventure at the Grand Hotel, while Moe gaped his astonishment.
Bruin had it all his own way in the mountains, killed a young bull or a fat heifer for his dinner every day or two, chased in pure sport a herd of sheep over a precipice; and as for Lars Moe's bay mare Stella, he nearly finished her, leaving his claw-marks on her flank in a way that spoiled her beauty forever.
But if it was Lars Moe's intention to convey such a message to his daughter, he failed to take into account his daughter's spirit. She appeared plainly but decently dressed at the reading of the will, and carried her head not a whit less haughtily than was her wont in her maiden days. She exhibited no chagrin when she found that Janson was her father's heir and that she was disinherited.
When he opened the stable-door, and was greeted by Stella's low, friendly neighing, or when she limped forward in her box-stall and put her small, clean-shaped head on his shoulder, then Lars Moe's heart swelled until it seemed on the point of breaking.
If the $1,750 in the bank had been meant as a bribe or a stipend for good behavior, such as was formerly paid to Italian brigands, it certainly could not have been more demoralizing in its effect; for all agreed that, since Lars Moe's death, Bruin misbehaved worse than ever. There was an odd clause in Lars Moe's will besides the codicil relating to the bear.
He was incapable of audible speech, but hour by hour he grew stronger until at dinner-time he was able to partake of some soup and roast beef, and even to listen with a wan smile to Moe's caustic appraisement of Leon Sammet's character. Finally, after a good night's rest, Moe and Abe awoke to find the engine stilled at Quarantine.
You're too old, Moe. And if he's any good, you gotta promotion coming." "And if he ain't?" "Don't come back!" Moe eyed Jimmy Holden. "Make it good Jimmy." There was malice in Moe's face. Jake looked down at Jimmy Holden.
He resumed, then, his languid occupation which this parley had interrupted, and continued to review, from an angle of Moe's cigar stand, the passing matinee parade. The time was late afternoon of a fog-scented October day. Through the wet air, street lamps and electric signs had begun to twinkle.
Now Moe Griesman was attempting to buy up Sam's liabilities and close him up, so that there might be no competitor to Moe's new business in Cyprus. At length the humour of the situation appealed to Morris and he grinned vacuously at his partner. "Nu," Abe growled; "what are you laughing at?" "Nothing much, Abe," Morris replied. "I was only thinking that's all, Abe.
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