Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 25, 2025
Babbitt utterly repudiated the view that he had been trying to discover how approachable was Miss McGoun. "Course! knew there was nothing doing!" he said. Eddie Swanson, the motor-car agent who lived across the street from Babbitt, was giving a Sunday supper. His wife Louetta, young Louetta who loved jazz in music and in clothes and laughter, was at her wildest.
"Where the hell is Swanson?" blurted out the foreman suddenly. "He belongs in this gang. Here you, Ole, what 's become o' Nelse Swanson?" The fellow thus directly addressed drew his hand across his mouth, straightening up slightly to answer. "Eet iss not sumtings dot I know, Meester Burke. He seems not here." "Not here; no, I should say not, ye cross-oied Swade.
Swanson, an Americanized Norwegian, had married a Cherokee squaw, which enabled him to locate in the Indian country. His reputation was none of the best, but his unscrupulous character and well-known skill with the Winchester caused him to be feared, and an officer of the law would think twice before making any attempts to disturb him.
I ask unanimous consent for the present consideration of this resolution. Mr. Swanson: I object to the introduction of the resolution. Mr. Lodge: Objection being made, of course I recognize the objection.
He was a very mountain of a man physically smooth-faced, agreeably clothed, hard and yet ingratiating of eye, a thinker, a reasoner. Swanson knew much of him by reputation and otherwise, although personally they were no more than speaking acquaintances. "How are you, Governor? I'm glad to see you again. I heard you were back in Chicago.
The sound of many feet hurrying to the scene was heard and, leaving the bag which he was about to take when Swanson sprang on him, Cummings bolted through the door, vaulted on his horse and followed closely by his companions, rushed swiftly into the darkness.
Heavy breathing and deep snores from the sleeping-rooms indicated that slumber had fallen on all the inmates. Swanson, who had been repeatedly urged to drink by Cummings and Moriarity and had accepted every invitation, was stretched on his back a drunken mass of stupidity.
No one could long be serious in the presence of Vergil Gunch. "Ask Dant' how Jack Shakespeare and old Verg' the guy they named after me are gettin' along, and don't they wish they could get into the movie game!" he blared, and instantly all was mirth. Mrs. Jones shrieked, and Eddie Swanson desired to know whether Dante didn't catch cold with nothing on but his wreath.
I call it a swell little dress." "Oh, it is, Mr. Swanson. It's a sweet frock," Mrs. Babbitt protested. "There now, do you see, smarty! You're such an authority on clothes!" Louetta raged, while the guests ruminated and peeped at her shoulders. "That's all right now," said Swanson.
There was a suggestion of sympathetic appeal in them, rich and deep, and, even more than that, a philosophic perception of ineffable things. Swanson arose. "You really don't mean to say that you are trying to bribe me openly, do you?" he inquired.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking