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Everything seems to be filthy, from the Hotel Ingleterra, which is considered the best house in Ponce, to the most miserable of huts on the outskirts of the city. Mr. Morrisey said that it is not a question of one place being cleaner than the other, but one place not being as filthy as another.
Scotty and I flared and raged like young cockerels, until the harpooner poured another round of drinks to enable us to forgive and make up. Which we did, arms around each other's necks, protesting vows of eternal friendship just like Black Matt and Tom Morrisey, I remembered, in the ranch kitchen in San Mateo.
"I feel I have a right to appeal to you for protection...." She had written that, an appeal to him, and he had not until now read the written words. What was she thinking of him? What could she think of his long silence? He could not blame Mrs. Morrisey. There was only himself to blame, no one else!
Ethel spoke of it. "Oh, it's some piece of boys' mischief, I'll be bound," exclaimed Jess, whereupon Roy and Rex exchanged glances and their hearts sank lower still. On the way home in the train Rex announced that Miles Morrisey was coming that evening to spend Sunday with them. "But I thought you and Roy were going to a meeting of your school society," returned Jess.
But the score did not tell all of the Rube's work that morning. He shut out Buffalo without a hit, or a scratch, the first no-hit, no-run game of the year. He gave no base on balls; not a Buffalo player got to first base; only one fly went to the outfield. For once I forgot Milly after a game, and I hurried to find Morrisey, and carried him off to have dinner with me.
Vast sums are, I am told, often lost and won in this manner during a single evening. This, at least, is a reproach from which American entertainments of the highest class are certainly free. John Morrisey may take his seat in Congress, but he does not direct the amusements in the back parlor of the White House.
Morrisey also states that the natives of the cities are desirous of becoming American citizens, but that out in the country, it is far different. These people are constantly in fear of the Americans, and their sole desire is to dispose of their property as soon as possible and return to Spain.
"Yes, and it was Darley, the same name you mentioned just now. And you fainted then, just as you did that time at the office. You don't mean that Miles " "Yes, I am almost certain that Miles Morrisey is really a Darley, the son of Maurice Darley, to whom all this money belongs. When I suspected this I knew that the end had come that I must trace the thing down and confess."
That was her particular phrase "stab you in the back." Now, although I had been eager to see Black Matt kill Tom Morrisey that morning, I did not care to furnish to the dancers the spectacle of a knife sticking in my back. I had not yet learned to distinguish between facts and theories. My faith was implicit in my mother's exposition of the Italian character.
Presently my hand, none too firm, was signing my name to a contract whereby I was to sell my pitcher for five thousand dollars at the close of the current season. I never saw a man look so pleased as Morrisey when he folded that contract and put it in his pocket. He bade me good-bye and hurried off to catch a train, and he never knew the Rube had pitched the great game on his wedding day.
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