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His blood was too congealed to accelerate to the swift tidal flow of indignation. After all, what did it matter? It was on a par with all the rest that Brissenden had condemned in bourgeois society. "Poor Briss," Martin communed; "he would never have forgiven me." Rousing himself with an effort, he possessed himself of a box which had once contained type-writer paper.
He'll be a big doctor some day. He vill cure my Leah." Nance's ambition took fire at the thought of that type-writer. It appealed to her far more than the sewing-machine. "Say, Ike," she said at her first opportunity, "I wish you'd teach me how to work it." "What'll you give me?" asked Ike, gravely. He had grown into a tall, thin youth, with the spectacled eyes and stooped shoulders of a student.
"Not yet." "Lots of changes since the old days. Mr. Snawdor and Fidy and Mrs. Smelts and Mr. Demry all gone. Have you heard about Mr. Demry?" Dan shook his head. He was not listening to her, but he was looking at her searchingly, broodingly, with growing insistence. The hammering of the type-writer was the only sound that broke the ensuing pause.
I gave Speedy an unblemished character. "The one of ye will never bethray the other," said the playful dame, and ushered me into a bare room, where Mamie sat working a type-writer. I was touched by the cordiality of her greeting.
As she took her seat on the first night, she looked up curiously. A new sound coming regularly from the inner room made her pause. "Is that a type-writer?" she asked incredulously. Mr. Lavinski, pushing his derby from his shining brow, smiled proudly. "Dat's vat it is," he said. "My Ike, he's got a scholarship offen de high school. He's vorking his vay through de medical college now.
Though in reality harsh leagues may lie between us, yet from the east wall of the library, just above the type-writer, I shall smile down upon your misshapen head a peaceful, forgiving smile. What a thought! And you will look UP from your London Mail and " "Don't," said Berry, emitting a hollow groan. "I am unworthy. Unworthy." He covered his face with his hands.
So Teresa Silva, aged nine, opened his letters and read them to him. He listened absently to a long dun from the type-writer people, his mind busy with ways and means of finding a job. Suddenly he was shocked back to himself. "'We offer you forty dollars for all serial rights in your story," Teresa slowly spelled out, "'provided you allow us to make the alterations suggested."
Reluctantly Martin yielded to the claims of the grocer, paying his bill with him in full, and receiving in change a pocketful of jingling coin. Also, he paid the other tradesmen in full, redeemed his suit and his bicycle, paid one month's rent on the type-writer, and paid Maria the overdue month for his room and a month in advance.
"I have several pupils in mathematics. It does not matter to them whether they are taught by a man or a woman. In heraldry I had only one you." He looked round the room. One end was occupied by shelves, filled with books; in one of the windows was a table, covered with papers and adorned with a type-writer, by means of which Iris carried on her correspondence.
All this time Joel was worried. It seemed a Sin and a Shame for an Old Man to go around spending his own Money. The Residenter had so much Fun during his Second Time on Earth that he decided to make it a sure-enough Renaissance, so he married a Type-Writer 19 years old, that he met in a Hotel Lobby, and then Joel did go up in the Air.
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