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Updated: May 26, 2025
She could not bear, from another, the slightest reference to the wrong she had suffered. "How much monee?" the man hastened to add, as he saw that she was troubled. "I have a little over four thousand dollars," Virgie replied, thinking it best to fully confide in him.
Often you saw the indefatigable Monee working away at a great rate; then dropping his employment all at once never mind what run off to a little distance, and after rolling himself away in a corner and taking a nap, jump up again, and fall to with fresh vigour.
Certain it was that, had Ereemear's guests travelled with purses, portmanteau, and letters of introduction to the queen, they could not have been better cared for. The day after our arrival, Monee, the old butler, brought us in for dinner a small pig, baked in the ground. All savoury, it lay in a wooden trencher, surrounded by roasted hemispheres of the breadfruit.
"I should like to have you, Chi," she said, thoughtfully, "but I am afraid it would be hardly fair to you, for I haven't a great deal of money, and I shall have to be very economical." Chi Lu's little round black eyes flashed at this. "<i>He</i> takee monee too?" he demanded, with contemptuous emphasis on the pronoun. Virgie flushed.
Johnny jerked the word out abruptly. "That's him! Salvage. Belongs anybody that finds. Mexico, she's foreign countree. She could take; it's hers if she want. But what she wants? Nobody can make it go. No Mexicans can fly, you bet. Me, I don't know damn t'ing about flyin' nothin' but monee. Monee, I make it fly, yes." He chuckled at his little joke, but Johnny did not even hear it.
One time take monee, go 'way off. School for write. Come back for fin' gol', make Jim tellum. Jim sick long time. Jim no tellum. Jim all time mad for Lucy. Las' night talk mean mebby fight Jim he die quick. Lucy say killum me, I tell. "Now me go my brother. Walk two day. Give you grub no got many grub. You takeum gol' you fin'. Me no care. No want. You don' give Lucy. Lucy bad girl all time.
That is enough, and I have plenty monee to make it more than enough." "Money money!" Ringfield exclaimed in his turn, "The root of many kinds of evil. How much money have you, my friend? You are accounted rich, as it goes in St. Ignace, at Bois Clair, in Hawthorne, but in Quebec, in Three Rivers, in Montreal no! You would soon find the difference.
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