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"All right, let's go the limit for a good time, though I'm afraid these scholars'll laugh at me, but I'll tell my tale and they can go as far as they like. What t'hell do I care who laughs? It's better to be laughed at than laughed down." These words spake the hero, and began the following tale: "We lived in a narrow street in the house Gavilla now owns, when I was a slave.
"T'hell wid yehs! An' who deh hell are yehs? I ain't givin' a snap of me fingers fer yehs," she bawled at him. She turned her huge back in tremendous disdain and climbed the stairs to the next floor. Jimmie followed, cursing blackly. At the top of the flight he seized his mother's arm and started to drag her toward the door of their room. "Come home, damn yeh," he gritted between his teeth.
"If I feel like a psychoplay I'm going to have me a psychoplay. It's the only stimulation I get any more." Muttering, "T'hell with it!" Philon got up from the table and walked into the living room. Slipping into his gray top coat and hat he ascended to the copter roofport. Before stepping into the copter seat he paused to study the MacDonald house on the corner. Odd-looking house at that.
"Who d'youse t'ink it is-me gran'mother?" demanded Rhoda Gray caustically. "Who are youse?" "Rorke," said Rorke shortly. "I guess you know, don't you?" "Is dat so?" snorted Rhoda Gray. "Well den, youse can beat it hop it on de jump! Wot t'hell right have youse got bustin' into me room at dis time of night eh? I ain't done nothin'!" Rough Rorke, his feet scuffling to feel the way, came forward.
"Just a quick one," said Smith as they entered a comfortable sitting room adorned by photographs of lovely ladies. "I've had a trying day and want to turn in." "T'hell with that," said Royston. "Wha's matter with seein' in the dawn?" He produced a bottle of whiskey and two glasses not without casualties among their fellows set them on a coffin stool and fell into a deep arm chair.
"Oh, t'hell with her," argued the woman. Pete appeared disturbed. "All right," said she, nodding her head at him. "All right for you! We'll see the next time you ask me to go anywheres with you." Pete squirmed. "Say," he said, beseechingly, "come wid me a minit an' I'll tell yer why." The woman waved her hand. "Oh, that's all right, you needn't explain, you know.
"Well, old man, how about it?" "Steer a straight course for hell, old dear," came the muffled reply, as the bird twisted its head under its wing, then untucked it to murmur sleepily: "T'hell!" So she made up her mind to move on the very day after the girl's birthday, which fell in a fortnights time.
Her grey hair fell in knotted masses about her shoulders. Her face was crimsoned and wet with perspiration. Her eyes had a rolling glare. "Not a damn cent more of me money will yehs ever get, not a damn cent. I spent me money here fer t'ree years an' now yehs tells me yeh'll sell me no more stuff! T'hell wid yeh, Johnnie Murckre! 'Disturbance'? Disturbance be damned! T'hell wid yeh, Johnnie "
His feet were flat and thick and were hideous with corns and bunions. Susan had early been made a critical observer of feet by the unusual symmetry of her own. She had seen few feet that were fit to be seen; but never, she thought, had she seen an exhibition so repellent. "What t'hell " he began. Then, discovering Susan, he growled, "Beg pardon, miss."
"I can make a drop of soup go farther than other men a pint," boasted Artie. "I'll show you: and I'll show that old " "You'll probably get shot," observed Buck, watching him closely. "W'at t'hell," observed Artie with an airy gesture. "It's the dope he takes," I told Johnson aside. "It only lasts about so long. Get him going before it dies on him." "I see. Trot right along," Buck commanded.
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