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Updated: June 18, 2025
It would have been everything for that poor child; it would have completely justified her in her own eyes." "Perhaps your telling her will serve the same purpose." "Yes, I did tell her, and I am glad of it. She had a right to know it." "Did she think Stoller's willingness to overlook Burnamy's performance had anything to do with its moral quality?" Mrs.
As for Burnamy's beauty it was not necessary to insist upon that; he had the distinction of slender youth; and she liked to think that no Highhote there was of a more patrician presence than this yet unprinted contributor to 'Every Other Week'. He and Stoller seemed on perfect terms; or else in his joy he was able to hide the uneasiness which she had fancied in him from the first time she saw them together, and which had never been quite absent from his manner in Stoller's presence.
His wife had detached March from her group for the mission, as soon as she felt that the young people were abusing her kindness. They answered him with hysterical laughter, and Burnamy said, "Why, it's Mr. Stoller's treat, you know."
Stoller's psychological interests to look after." "Oh, yes! Do you like him?" "I don't know. He's a lump of honest selfishness. He isn't bad. You know where to have him. He's simple, too." "You mean, like Mr. March?" "I didn't mean that; but why not? They're not of the same generation, but Stoller isn't modern." "I'm very curious to see him," said the girl. "Do you want me to introduce him?"
But he knows that I thought Burnamy in the wrong. This may be Stoller's way of wiping out an obligation. Wouldn't you like to go with him?" "The mere thought of his being in the same town is prostrating. I'd far rather he hated us; then he would avoid us." "Well, he doesn't own the town, and if it comes to the worst, perhaps we can avoid him. Let us go out, anyway, and see if we can't."
It intensified him in his dear-bought Americanism to the point of wishing to commit lese majesty in the teeth of some local dignitaries who had snubbed him, and who seemed to enjoy putting our eagle to shame in his person; there was something like the bird of his step-country in Stoller's pale eyes and huge beak.
But he had taken hold so promptly and so intelligently that by working far into the night, and through the whole forenoon, he had got Stoller's crude mass of notes into shape, and had sent off in time for the first steamer the letter which was to appear over the proprietor's name in his paper.
Stoller's father and mother were poor emigrants who made their way to the West with the instinct for sordid prosperity native to their race and class; and they set up a small butcher shop in the little Indiana town where their son was born, and throve in it from the start.
From the politic side of his nature, however, he temporized with Stoller's preference. "I suppose it will be some time yet." "I wish," said Stoller, with a savage disregard of expressed sequences and relevancies, "I could ha' got some pictures to send home with that letter this afternoon: something to show how they do things here, and be a kind of object-lesson."
"I don't believe he's been doing anything. It's something that Mr. Stoller's been doing to him." "I shouldn't infer that from his own words. What makes you think the trouble is with Stoller?" "He said he said yesterday something about being glad to be through with him, because he disliked him so much he was always afraid of wronging him. And that proves that now Mr.
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