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Updated: June 9, 2025
These were the meditations that busied Deronda in the interval of four days before he could fulfill his promise to call for Mordecai at Ezra Cohen's, Sir Hugo's demands on him often lasting to an hour so late as to put the evening expedition to Holborn out of the question.
The architect and his lawyer were thunderstruck, but they had no witnesses to corroborate their contentions, since no one had ever seen Cohen in the other's office. The jury disagreed and the architect in some way secured Cohen's indictment for perjury. But during the criminal trial, at which I defended him, Mr.
"John Ashley and his friend Walter Hatherell leave the club together, and together decide on the plan of campaign. Hatherell returns to the club, and Ashley goes to fetch the revolver the revolver which played such an important part in the drama, but not the part assigned to it by the police. Now try to follow Ashley closely, as he dogs Aaron Cohen's footsteps.
"Is er King Browning present?" yelled a freshman, leaning out of a window. "If so, I'd like to inquire if he means to attend the party this evening." "If he does," said another freshman, "he will be able to obtain a dress suit down at Cohen's, price 'von tollar ber efenin' to shentlemen." "Oh, you wait till we get at you fresh ducks!" shouted back an angry sophomore.
It was a sweltering hot Saturday in the first part of June. Every now and then the wind blew in from the east picking up the dust in eddies. Abe Cohen's store was closed. His children wandered up and down the street, celebrating their sabbath in best clothes and chastened behaviour. Jim Dunn was watching a large consignment of goods for the Company store being unloaded.
"Nay, I'm noan sich a fool as to want to go trapsin' about t' lanes an' t' ditches. I've my work to attend to, or we'll not get straight wi' t' rent." "Aye, we're a bit behind wi' t' rent sin thoo com back frae thy week i' Blackpool." "Now don't you be allus talkin' about my week i' Blackpool; I reckon I've a right to go there, same as t' other lasses that works at Cohen's."
I seen him. The girl there. He was in Mrs Cohen's. What's up? Soldier and civilian. CISSY CAFFREY: I was in company with the soldiers and they left me to do you know, and the young man run up behind me. But I'm faithful to the man that's treating me though I'm only a shilling whore. Uropoetic. VOICES: Shes faithfultheman. CISSY CAFFREY: Yes, to go with him. And me with a soldier friend.
Cohen's aspect: his very features broad and chubby showed that tendency to look mongrel without due cause, which, in a miscellaneous London neighborhood, may perhaps be compared with the marvels of imitation in insects, and may have been nature's imperfect effort on behalf of the pure Caucasian to shield him from the shame and spitting to which purer features would have been exposed in the times of zeal.
A writer was abusing Dickens. A magazine editor and a photographer were drinking a dry brand at a reserved table. A 36-25-42 young lady was saying to an eminent sculptor: "Fudge for your Prax Italys! Bring one of your Venus Anno Dominis down to Cohen's and see how quick she'd be turned down for a cloak model. Back to the quarries with your Greeks and Dagos!" Thus went Bohemia. At eleven Mr.
Thus pondering, and patiently following out his threads, the old man paced a mile down the camp to the post-office, for he had heard the postman's horn, and he expected important letters from England, from his friend and agent at Farnborough, Old Cohen. There were letters from England, but none in old Cohen's hand.
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