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Updated: June 3, 2025
I want you to invest, not in diamond stars, Captain, but in Jack Farley's medal. I was to negotiate the sale, you know." "Yes, yes! And you warned me you were going to fleece me; so go on, go on! What is the boy's what is your price?" asked the Captain.
Carl sat in the chair watching his prisoner, and soon saw Farley's chest heaving regularly and heard his deep breathing as he slept. Then things seemed to waver and fade away. Carl started up at hearing some one beating on the door, and sat rubbing his eyes. It was broad daylight. "All right, I'll get up pooty soon yet. Is preakfast retty?" "Here, open the door. This is Ted." "Vait a minute."
A little enquiry elicits the fact that John Farley was official scribe of that University near the end of the fifteenth century. The Greek Psalter, then, was pretty certainly at Oxford in Farley's time. What do we know of Greek MSS. then at Oxford?
Since then she's been playing such parts as she can get, but I guess she ain't averaged fifteen dollars a week the whole blessed winter." "Where is she now?" "At Mrs. Farley's. She has a small room there. I think she pays four dollars a week when she pays it. You know Mrs. Farley's. I'm stopping there, too. It ain't exactly swell, but it's better than the park, especially on cold nights."
Such pity as he had felt for Farley before the discovery of the illicit whiskey-still was now smothered in disgust. He would fight for Elsie, but he would not lift a finger to help rid Dead Hole of Farley's boot-leg confederates. Carmena had turned about to peer down the half-shadowed valley. "I thought sure Slade would get here to-night," she said. "He's overdue already.
"By George, I did forget it!" said the old man. "Somehow, it slipped my memory completely in our pleasant hurry. Poor Jack Farley's medal! You've found the chap that owns it, you say?"
"If I choose to drive you when you are too sick to hold the reins, it is my own affair." He shook his head impatiently. "I wasn't thinking of that; but you must first know just what you're doing. My father stands to lose all he has got to to the Farley's. That's what the meeting is for. Do you understand?" She bit her lip and a far-away look came into her eyes.
"What did you do with the money you stole from that hole?" said Ted, gazing fiercely into Farley's eyes. "I haven't seen a dollar of it," was the reply. After Farley had been securely locked up in a storeroom without windows, they went to bed, feeling secure that there would be no further attempt to enter the house that night.
Under influences more benign he might have made a career, if not more brilliant, more felicitous. At the age of ten years he wrote some verses entitled "On the Last Epiphany," which, printed in Farley's Journal, showed that he had, if not high poetic genius, at least extraordinary sensibility of rhythm.
Before the wistful pleading of the violet eyes, and the sweet tones of the hesitating voice, the surly expression vanished from Farley's countenance, and, touching his hat, he replied cheerfully: "Aye, miss; if he is not venomous, I will take him along." "Thank you. Mr. Roscoe, if you will be so good as to go with me to the express car, I can get my dog." "That is not necessary.
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