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Updated: June 5, 2025
"Essie," she faltered, twisting her rings nervously, finally blurting out, "I'm afraid you'll have to go, Essie." The girl started violently. "Go?" she gasped. "Go?" Mrs. Terriberry nodded, relieved that it was out. "But why? Why?" It seemed too incredible to believe. This was the very last thing she had expected, or thought of. Mrs.
She'd a done it in a minute more only the hired girl broke her holt!" "Who? What do you mean, Mrs. Terriberry?" "Dr. Harpe! She choked Gussie Symes because Gussie wouldn't leave her home and go away with her! Did you ever hear such a thing!" She went on in disconnected gasps: "Crazy! Jealous! I don't know what nobody does and she's disappeared they can't find her." Mrs.
"Let's go out on the porch fer a minute an' look at the meller moon." "Meller moon nothin'! Come on, don't be a piker." She was ladling punch into each of their glasses. "Ah-h-h! Ain't that great cough mixture!" Mr. Terriberry rolled his eyes in ecstasy as he once more saw the bottom of his glass. "Doc, 'bout one more and me and you couldn't hit the groun' with our hats." Mr.
As the evening advanced and the exercise of the dance loosened Mrs. Tutts's simple coiffure, the aigrette slipped forward until that lady resembled nothing so much as a sportive unicorn. Mrs. Terriberry was unique and also warm in a long pink boa of curled chicken feathers which she kept wound closely about her neck. The red and feverish appearance of Mrs.
He no longer found diversion in his nightly game of "slough" in the card room of the Terriberry House, for they became only occasions to remind him that he owed his fellow-players more than he could ever hope to pay if Mudge did not dispose of more bonds quickly or the stockholders did not "come through," as he phrased it.
Abe Tutts's paper upon Wagnerian music at the Culture Club were slights that rankled. She was suspiciously close at hand when the ladies appeared in the office of the Terriberry House with their culinary successes; also she was wearing the red foulard which never went out of the closet except to funerals and important functions.
"Murder case," explained Symes for conversational purposes as he and the banker stood at the front window in the office of the Terriberry House and watched a mad race between Lutz, the undertaker, and a plume which had blown off the hearse. "Yes?" "Pretty raw piece of work," continued Symes, while the banker searched in his case for a cigar.
"Let's stop and hit one up," she whispered feverishly. "I'm dry as a fish." Mr. Terriberry seemed to check himself in midair. "I kin hardly swaller." He led the way to the anteroom and she followed, swaying a little both from the dizzy dance and the effects of previous visits to the punch bowl.
Terriberry emphatically, could do him a power of harm. The actual dismissal of the girl who had grown to womanhood under his eyes he wisely left to his wife. The girl stood up now, a slender, swaying figure: white, desolate, with uplifted arms outstretched, she looked like a storm-whipped flower. "Oh, what shall I do! Where shall I go!" The low, broken-hearted cry of despair set Mrs.
"Old hoss," he laid his hand upon the man's shoulder while his mocking laugh again made her cheeks tingle, "you oughtn't to lie to me like that." When he had sauntered across the street with his careless, easy stride and disappeared inside the swinging doors of the bar-room of the Terriberry House, Dr.
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