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Updated: June 12, 2025
And Uncle Brome is so generous, too. It is hard to understand." "No," Sommers said, preparing to leave. "Of course they are not all alike, and it is hard to judge. No man knows what he is doing to any great extent." "What will you do?" Miss Hitchcock asked abruptly. As Sommers's careworn face flushed, she added hurriedly, "How cruel of me! Of course you don't know. That will settle itself."
And a man who could not be depended upon to do the rational thing was more or less dangerous. It was easier for him to understand Parker's defects than Sommers's wilfulness. They were both lamentable eccentricities. "Chicago isn't what it was," the old man resumed reminiscently. "It's too big, and there is too much speculation. A man is rich to-day and poor to-morrow.
On rare occasions when she had bought a pair they were always "bargains," so cheap that it would have been preposterous and unreasonable to have expected them to be fitted to the hand. Now she rested her elbow on the cushion of the glove counter, and a pretty, pleasant young creature, delicate and deft of touch, drew a long-wristed "kid" over Mrs. Sommers's hand.
Porter asked jokingly. Sommers's keen eyes rested on his host's face inquiringly. "No-oh," Alexander Hitchcock drawled; "I had a talk with him." "They are rather dangerous people to talk with," Dr. Lindsay remarked. "He was a Norwegian, a big, fine-looking man. He was all right. He couldn't talk much English, but he knew that his folks were hungry.
He had come in after dinner and found Miss M'Gann in his room, calling upon Alves. She had brought Dresser with her. He was well dressed, his hair was cut to a conventional length, and he carried a silk hat altogether a different person from the slouchy, beery man who had grumbled at McNamara and Hills. Sommers's glance must have said something of this, for Dresser began to explain,
As Foster was watching the conveyance of these blocks, it suddenly occurred to him that Hester Sommers's father might be amongst them, and he scanned every face keenly as the slaves passed to and fro, but saw no one who answered to the description given him by the daughter.
The big shoulders of the blond-haired fellow towered above the others; he was talking excitedly, and they were listening. When they started to cross the street, Sommers touched Dresser. "What are you doing here?" he demanded abruptly. "What are you doing? You had better get out of town along with your rich friends." He motioned sneeringly at the bag in Sommers's hand.
But she began to appear very weary, and when they reached the Under-Cliff House she went to her room, and did not reappear again that day. Graydon made even Dr. Sommers's ruddy cheek grow pale by his brief narrative, adding, "Perhaps her nerves have received a severer shock than she yet understands. I wish you would tell Mrs.
Young Hitchcock had come down with typhoid while waiting in Tampa for a transport, and had been left in Sommers's camp. He greeted the familiar face of the doctor with a welcome he had never given it in Chicago. "Am I going to die in this sink, doctor?" he asked, when Sommers came back to him in the evening. "I can't say," the doctor replied, with a smile.
The crowd seemed especially anxious to keep them back, and Miss Hitchcock was hustled and pushed roughly hither and thither until she grasped Sommers's coat with trembling hands. A fleshy man, with a dirty two weeks' beard on his tanned face, shoved Sommers back with a brutal laugh. Sommers pushed him off.
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