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Updated: June 2, 2025
He paused a moment and then went on: "You'll find out before long that Dude Moxley ain't to be trifled with. I'll get what I want out of you obstinate pig headed chaps if it takes a week. I know how to bring you to terms. Back you go in that closet now, and there you stay until you can listen to reason.
"Out!" he roared. "Out of my place, you rotten, cheap dude, you!" And two minutes later B. Gurin fled wildly down the stairs, the newspaper still clutched in his hand. Although Leon Sammet had at first been actuated by motives of a somewhat sordid nature in his negotiation of Mrs. Gladstein's betrothal, his subsequent behaviour was tempered by the traditional hospitality of his race.
One of the little things I guarantee is that you'll both win out to-day." "In algebra," muttered Darrin, "I hope they won't go too deeply into quadratic equations " "Cut it!" ordered Reade severely. "Likewise forget it! Say, I heard a rattling good story last night. It carries a Dutchman, a poodle, a dude and an old maid. Let me see if I can remember just how it runs."
Some one must 've fetched y'! And I'm goin' t' know, 'r else I'm goin' t' break ev'ry last bone in y'r dude body!" "Oh, my goodness!" quavered Johnnie. He turned and twisted in the big chair. And he wished with all his might that he was having either a very bad think, or a torturing nightmare. Seeing this second friend come, he had felt an awful sinking of the heart.
Then she thought of what had happened, of how she had been seized by Dan the Dude in the deserted house, of how the noxious gas had overcome her. They had told her of how Craig had risked his life to save her, how she had been brought home, still only half alive, after his almost miraculous work with the new electric machine. There was his picture. She had not taken that away.
When the young man called out to an old gentleman, "Sit out here, guvinor, on the back piazza," or to another, "Don't crowd there; stay where the breezes blow," the dude looked daggers, and at last, grabbing the conductor's elbow and indicating the young man by a nod of the head, evidently entered a protest. Every one saw it.
But just then Purt felt something at his heels and turned swiftly. One of the homeliest mongrel curs ever seen was sniffing at Purt's green stockings. "Get out, you brute!" gasped the dude, rather frightened. But the dog didn't seem to have any designs upon Purt's thin shanks. Instead, he jumped about, foolishly stiff-legged as a dog will when he thinks he has found a friend, and barked.
Apart from the peculiar circumstances of the case he would like nothing better. Then, why not? What had he or his self-respect to dread from a trip with this accommodating dude? He would hardly sandbag him, and were he Harrington grinned inwardly at the cunning thought intending to have the machine break down in an inaccessible spot, and leave him stranded, what difference would it make?
It became so rough and difficult to stand on deck, on account of the vessel being tossed about like a cockleshell, that Harry felt constrained to go below. As he passed the cabin of Montgomery Clinton, he heard a faint voice call his name. Entering, he saw the dude stretched out in his berth, with an expression of helpless terror in his weak face. "Oh! Mr.
The horse started up like a racer, and tore through the street as if trying to win a race for a thousand dollars. The dude clung to the reins in the wildest terror. To his frenzied imagination it seemed that his final hour was approaching. "Whoa!" he screamed, jerking on the lines. "Stop, you crazy beast! Stop, before we all get killed!" But the horse only went the faster.
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