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For the second time that evening Anthony's mind made an abrupt jump, and what he said was not at all what he had intended to say. "Un'erstand you kep' my wife out of the movies." "What?" Bloeckman's ruddy face darkened in parallel planes of shadows. "You heard me." "Look here, Mr. Patch," said Bloeckman, evenly and without changing his expression, "you're drunk.
I've got a man's mind." "You've got a mind like mine. Not strongly gendered either way." Later she told him about the beginnings of her friendship with Bloeckman. One day in Delmonico's, Gloria and Rachael had come upon Bloeckman and Mr. Gilbert having luncheon and curiosity had impelled her to make it a party of four. She had liked him rather.
In back of them a dozen people had miraculously gathered. "I'll kill him," cried Anthony, pitching and straining from side to side. "Let me kill " "Throw him out!" ordered Bloeckman excitedly, just as a small man with a pockmarked face pushed his way hurriedly through the spectators. "Any trouble, Mr. Black?"
"You related to Adam J. Patch?" he inquired of Anthony, emitting two slender strings of smoke from nostrils overwide. Anthony admitted it with the ghost of a smile. "He's a fine man," pronounced Bloeckman profoundly. "He's a fine example of an American." "Yes," agreed Anthony, "he certainly is." I detest these underdone men, he thought coldly. Boiled looking!
The night before the engagement was announced she told Bloeckman. It was a heavy blow. She did not enlighten Anthony as to the details, but she implied that he had not hesitated to argue with her.
The men, except Richard Caramel, drank freely; Gloria and Muriel sipped a glass apiece; Rachael Jerryl took none. They sat out the waltzes but danced to everything else all except Gloria, who seemed to tire after a while and preferred to sit smoking at the table, her eyes now lazy, now eager, according to whether she listened to Bloeckman or watched a pretty woman among the dancers.
They say Mary Pickford's studio mail costs her fifty thousand a year." "Say!" "Sure. Fifty thousand. But it's the best kinda advertising there is " They drifted out of earshot and almost immediately Bloeckman appeared Bloeckman, a dark suave gentleman, gracefully engaged in the middle forties, who greeted her with courteous warmth and told her she had not changed a bit in three years.
Anthony cracked up against the staircase, recovered himself and made a wild drunken swing at his opponent, but Bloeckman, who took exercise every day and knew something of sparring, blocked it with ease and struck him twice in the face with two swift smashing jabs.
Surely one owes as much to the current generation as to one's unwanted children. "Such children, however, poor dear babies, have little in common with the wedded state. "June 7th. Moral question: Was it wrong to make Bloeckman love me? Because I did really make him. He was almost sweetly sad to-night. How opportune it was that my throat is swollen plunk together and tears were easy to muster.
"I want to be a successful sensation in the movies," she announced. "I hear that Mary Pickford makes a million dollars annually." "You could, you know," said Bloeckman. "I think you'd film very well." "Would you let me, Anthony? If I only play unsophisticated roles?"
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