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She wasn't reconciled to his marriage; she didn't care to receive Anna; she implied that regardless of Mr. Starkweather's express wishes, Henry was a stony-hearted ingrate for remaining so long abroad. To be sure, his presence at home would have served no purpose whatsoever, but Mirabelle was firm in her opinion.
All the scents of the avenue of flowers behind her stall were but insipid beside the aroma of vitality which exhaled from her open baskets and falling kerchief. That day she was quite intoxicated by the scent of a large arrival of mirabelle plums, which filled the market. She could plainly see that Mademoiselle Saget had learnt some great piece of news, and she wished to make her talk.
"Only don't you worry about any pollution. That's where I draw the line. I'm not going to stage one single pollute." "You are going to operate that place?" "Why certainly," said Henry. "And speaking of operations, I've got a hunch the patient's going to recover. I've just been holding a clinic.... Well good-bye, Aunt Mirabelle." He turned back to his wife and his friend Standish.
The note hadn't been mentioned; the League hadn't been given a breathing-space; and Mirabelle was pleading with him to see the light, and join the crusade. Finally, she leaned forward and put her hand on his arm. "Two weeks ago," she said, "I told the League I was going to give it a real surprise this next Tuesday. What I meant was money. The money for that note.
"Where do you get a license to crash in?" "Just what I was working up to," says I. "For one thing, he's the only perfect office boy in captivity. The Corrugated can't spare him. Then again, there's Mother. Honest, Mirabelle, you ought to see Mother reg'lar stage widow, with the sad sweet smile, the soft gray hair, 'n'everything. If you could, you'd lay off this Theda Bara act the next minute."
"Ordinance says nobody can't engage in no diversion on the Lord's Day. That's today, and this here limousine's a diversion, ain't it?" Mr. Mix cried out in anguish, as her grip tightened. "Ouch! It's a damned outrage! Leggo my arm." "No, it isn't! Oh, Theodore, don't you see what it means " "Leggo, Mirabelle! It's a damned outrage!" "No, it isn't either! Theodore, don't you see?
Mix, for even with his genius for hypocrisy, he sometimes found it difficult to be a hypocrite on both sides of the same proposition. His status was satisfactory, at the moment, but he mustn't let Mirabelle get the bit in her teeth, and run away with him. As soon as ever she got him on record as favouring the sort of legislation which she herself wanted, Mr. Mix's power was going to dwindle.
Mix of why, what could Henry accuse him of? Simply marrying for money? If it didn't make any difference to Mirabelle, it certainly didn't to Mr. Mix. And what booted the rest of the world? Why should he concern himself with all the petty spite and gossip of a town which wasn't even progressive enough to have an art museum or a flying field, to say nothing of a good fight-club?
And now, as casually as he had ever raked in a jack-pot from the bewildered sophomores, he had bought the Starkweather business, and not on a shoestring, either, as Mirabelle had suspected. He had roomed with Henry at college; he had been his inseparable companion, out of office hours, ever since; he knew him too well to proffer any trite condolence.
Mr. Mix slumped down as though hit from behind. "Mirabelle listen " His voice was strained, and hoarse. "I may have to have some money today four or five thousand " "I haven't got it." He stared at her until she backed away in awe. "You you haven't got four or five thousand ?" Mirabelle began to whimper. "I've been so sure of of August, you know I've spent all Mr. Archer sent me.
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