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Updated: June 6, 2025
"I'll think about it," Hiram promised. "Do that! And in the event that I say things look extra good, you'd better slip Jerkline Jo a little sob story, and get her to let you drag down what you got comin' on your wages and slip that to me, too. By golly, Hooker, once I get a toehold, Millions is my middle name." Hiram smiled wryly. On through the day the teams plodded toward the mountain pass.
"Yes, sir," said Willis. "Then there's us cops," said Sergeant Madden wryly. "Mostly we join up for the glamour. We think it's important to be a cop. But presently we find we ain't admired. Then there's no more glamour but we're still important. A cop matters because he protects people against other people that want to do things to 'em. Against characters that want to get important by hurtin' 'em.
You're looking less like a new penny and more like one that has been too much in circulation." "Thanks!" Penny retorted sarcastically; then she grinned wryly. "You are right, as a matter of fact. I was up too late last night bridge at the Mileses'." "Bridge!" Dundee ejaculated incredulously.
Preston grimaced wryly, but he was shrewd enough to grasp and hold such advantage as was his. "Well, failing him, you'll have me, what? That's a promise, is it?" She looked at him again. "If you want me under those conditions." He put his arms about her. "Of course I want you, Cherry-ripe! We'd be awfully happy together, you and I. I'll soon make you forget him, if that's all.
And then, on seeing who it was, she smiled wryly. "Is it forbidden to get in here?" she asked, still speaking in a heavy, dull way. "I didn't know it was," and stumblingly she stepped down out of the confessional. Varick scowled at her, and made no answer to her question.
Nay, more" he looked at her, and smiled wryly "if you are kind, as I know you to be kind, you will pray for me, for I go from you a melancholy, as well as a foolish man." She smiled a strange little wavering smile, and Mottram was deeply moved by the gentleness with which Catherine Nagle had listened to his story.
When the cigar was going well, he looked at Braman. "What is Trevison?" Pale, still dizzy from the effects of the blow on the head, Braman, who was leaning heavily on the counter, smiled wryly: "He's a holy terror you ought to know that. He's a reckless, don't-give-a-damn fool who has forgotten there's such a thing as consequences. 'Firebrand' Trevison, they call him.
I was helpless." "But you fought! You overcame it." Frank Corson smiled wryly. "No, I didn't. It was just that he'd had little time to work on me. It was a single mental blow, so to speak, that laid me out. Like one punch in the ring. Gradually, I came out of it." "I think I tried to fight." "Of course, you did. The disgrace was mine. I acted like a child.
The Connies know how badly we want that asteroid, but they also know we don't want it enough to start a war. Got that?" "Got it," Rip stated wryly. "I got it good. Thanks for the warning, Terra base. Foster off." "Terra base off. Stay out of high vack." Fine advice, if it could be taken. Rip stared up at the brilliant stars, thinking fast.
A five-year contract hmm that would the seventy-five thousand. The banks couldn't turn him down if he had that much cash collateral. Kennon chuckled wryly. He'd better get the job before he started spending the money he didn't have. He had 231 credits plus a few halves, tenths, and hundredths, a diploma in veterinary medicine, some textbooks, a few instruments, and a first-class spaceman's ticket.
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