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Updated: June 22, 2025
"Girls are queer," he said, pausing in his whistling solo, to speak his thoughts. "Even nice girls are queer SOMETIMES," he murmured. "Of course Princess Polly is always pleasant, and my sister Leslie isn't even odd, but Inez is freaky, and Vivian, well, she's something like Inez." In the garden the three little girls stood where Harry had left them. "What shall we do?" said Leslie.
She was very simply gowned in black, and but for a certain twinkle of the dark gray eyes, and a rather mocking smile, there was nothing particularly distinctive about her. "Tell me some more," said Miss Holland curiously. "Sometimes the voting woman helps and sometimes she hurts; if they're freaky, and of course some of them are, they hurt dreadfully."
"Cultivation and refinement have taught people to recognize and analyze and imitate it; the counterfeits are most current in that society, but as to the reality I don't know it is nature's work and she is a little freaky about it." "But Guy!" said his mother impatiently; "this is not selling but giving away one's birthright.
There lay the old rancher, whose absence they had not noted. He had been in the tent with them when they last saw him and how he had gotten out there none knew. The rancher had been stripped of every vestige of clothing by the freaky lightning. "He's dead," crooned Stacy solemnly. "Get water, quick!
Besides, I didn't think I could stand for a wig. I didn't know how much I was going to miss him." "You wouldn't shy at the wig now, eh?" says I. "Would I?" says she. "Honest, I liked Von Blatzer, for all his freaky ways. He was human, he was, and we understood each other. He'll be at Monte Carlo now. Roulette, you know. That's all he lives for. Plays a system.
Nobody seems to be interfering with HIM, and he's freaky enough looking to start a riot on Broadway." Further comment was checked by the voice of the scientist at the door, asking to see Mr. Sherwen at once. Miss Polly immediately slipped out of the room to the patio, followed by Carroll and Cluff. "My business, probably," remarked Mr. Brewster. "I'll just stay and see." And he stayed.
One of the usual teashop joints, the Brass Candlestick is, tucked away in a dwelling house basement on a side street about half a block east of Fifth avenue, with a freaky sign over the door and a pair of moultin' bay trees at the entrance.
The latter could have elected Bryan, the former could not; the Democratic stomach is freaky and very squeamish; it swallows many things but digests few; the ostrich-like Republican organ has never been known to reject anything. Republicans swear stanchly by every president they have ever elected.
Why, bless you, you never'd think anything ailed him a good deal of the time, if you saw him before noon, though sometimes he would be freaky, and hide himself in the barn, or go over in the woods, but we always kept an eye on him. But this Sunday there was going to be a great occasion.
It really ought to know better, because empires and marriages and business contracts have been upset, if not lost, on account of its freaky humour; and it twisted the corners of the man's mouth into a distinct smile as he involuntarily thought of the drizzling November afternoon when Damaris, in brogues, tweed skirt and mackintosh, had announced her intention of going out to join in some demonstration which had to do with the upholding of the rights of her fellow-sisters, and had only been dissuaded therefrom by the opportune arrival of tea and muffins.
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