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Updated: May 12, 2025
"Edith, if you'll come into the studio I'll play you something I've patched up." "I'm a heathen about music. Let's sit with Eleanor." "Skeezics, what's the matter with you? Why won't you come and walk? You're getting lazy in your old age!" "Busy," Edith said, vaguely.
I understand her now," Then, once more, he thought, frowning, "But why is she so down on Edith?" That Eleanor's irritation was jealousy not of Edith, but of Edith's years never occurred to him. So all he said was, "She oughtn't to be down on Edith; she has always appreciated her!" "You can say anything to Skeezics; she has sense. She understands."
When I sold typewriters, if I sold twice as many machines on a trip as I did the trip before, I used to figure that the demand had doubled: but out here in the jungle, by golly, if I get a lot o' clues and map out a plan o' campaign from 'em, I find that my clues are old stuff and a little bow-legged skeezics with a face like a cancelled Chinese stamp has already eaten up most of my plan o' campaign!
"I won't spoil things, Skeezics," he said, gently; "oh, say, Edith, let up on crying! That breaks me all up." But Edith, having discovered her handkerchief, was mopping very flushed cheeks and mumbling on about her own woes. "Why can't you be satisfied just to go on the way we always have? Why can't you be satisfied to have me like you almost as much as I like Maurice?"
"Skeezics," he said, "you are the soundest thing the Lord ever made! As it happens, it's a thing I can't talk about to anybody. But I'll never forget this, Edith. And ... dear, I'm glad you're going to be happy; you deserve the best man on earth, and old Johnny comes mighty darned near being the best!" Edith, frowning, rose abruptly. "Please don't talk that way. I hate that sort of talk!
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