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Updated: June 26, 2025
Women who are ready to accept sexual advances are common enough in the uninhibited girl, the dissatisfied married woman, the young widow, the drug habitue; but aside from the woman who has capitalized her sex, the sex adventurer is largely male. What attracts him? For he rarely pesters the good woman, and ordinarily the average woman is not solicited.
He endeavoured to discuss the matter with his wife, but Puss Poteet was not the woman to commit herself. She was a Mountain Sphinx. "I'm afeard Sis is ailin'," said Teague, upon one occasion. "Well," replied Puss, "she ain't complainin'." "That's hit," Teague persisted; "she hain't complainin'. That's what pesters me.
Every New Yorker who journeys to the West wants to see a few roadagents; conversely the Westerner sojourning in New York pesters his New York friends to lead him to the haunts of the gangsters.
"The charm of Fortune's bag is not what you pull from it, but what remains within." "Boyd," I said abruptly. "Who is that handsome wench that followed us from Otsego?" "Dolly Glenn?" "That is her name." "Lord, how she pesters me!" he said fretfully. "I chanced upon her at the Middle Fort one evening down by the river.
"How's your folks?" questioned she, dropping her dishcloth into the pan and following him to the door. "Oh, we're all right," returned Zenas Henry with a backward glance. "Captain Benjamin's shoulder pesters him some about layin', but I tell him he can't expect rain an' fog not to bring rheumatism." "That's so," agreed Celestina. "What a spell of weather we've had!
'Father, she said, hoping to make a diversion, 'Mr Hinks has sent you his new book, and wishes 'Then take Mr Hinks's new book back to him, and tell him that I have quite enough to do without reading tedious trash. He needn't expect that I'm going to write a notice of it. The simpleton pesters me beyond endurance.
"He may, of course." "Ah! Then he is with you to-night?" "Yes. Unfortunately, he is. Ah! Hugh! How I hate his exquisite and superior manners. But he is such a close friend of mother's that I can never escape him." "And he still pesters you with his attentions, of course," remarked Hugh in a hard voice. "Oh! yes, he is always pretending to be in love with me." "Love!" echoed Hugh.
The master-passion of this worthy and genial fellow was to get a publisher for a fair commentary on Dante, to which he had firmly linked a very bad translation, and for about six months Byron pesters Murray with constant appeals to satisfy him; e.g. November l6, "He must be gratified, though the reviewers will make him suffer more tortures than there are in his original."
The contributor whose article would be in excellent time if it did not appear before the close of the century, or never appeared at all, pesters you with warnings that a month's delay is a deadly blow to progress, and stays the great procession of the ages. The contributor who could profitably fill a sheet, insists on sending a treatise.
An old fancier in a fur cap, iron-rimmed spectacles, and goloshes that look like two dread-noughts, walks about by the waggons of birds and pails of fish. He is, as they call him here, "a type." He hasn't a farthing to bless himself with, but in spite of that he haggles, gets excited, and pesters purchasers with advice.
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