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Updated: May 31, 2025
Then, rigid and wide-eyed she saw it all again, what had happened in those thirty seconds which had summed up and ended the lives of 'Gene and Nelly.
"She went away, Hugh," replied my mother, looking greatly troubled. "Why?" I persisted. "It is something you are too young to understand." Of course I started an investigation, and the next day at school I asked the question of Gene Hollister himself, only to discover that he believed his aunt to be dead! And that night he asked his mother if his Aunt Grace were really alive, after all?
She had a sunny disposition and a very sweet smile, and she tried to make friends with the man; but he would not pay any attention to her. "He always read his paper in the morning before he went to work, and in the evening after he came home. Little Gene would peep up at him under the paper, with her sweetest smile.
"Lots of people nowadays would say she seems to be fond of the children because she is using them to fill up a lack in her life," she said somberly; "that 'Gene no longer satisfied her, and that she fed on the children because she was starving emotionally." Her husband making no comment on this, she went on, "Neale, don't you think that people are saying horrid, distressing things nowadays?
They're inseparable companions in the book. As for Sir Dub and Sir Hack, and the Lady Dope " "Oh, hush, Eugene," called Angela gaily. "Just listen to what he's telling Frieda," she remarked to Miss Roth. "You mustn't mind him though. He's always teasing someone. Why didn't you raise him better, Sylvia?" she asked of Eugene's sister. "Oh, don't ask me. We never could do anything with Gene.
"'Gene Bisbee. But I never went to that bunch yet for any information, and I don't go this time except as a last resort. Of course he knows, and that is one reason I believe she is Mrs. Lawton. He was Gabrielle's maquereau for years when he'd wrung enough out of her he set up for himself Well, I ain't through yet, by a long sight. Beliefs ain't proof."
We don't all agree about horses, except in case of Gene Stewart's iron-gray." "Does Mr. Stewart own the best horse in the country?" asked Madeline. Again she had an inexplicable thrill as she remembered the wild flight of Stewart's big dark steed and rider. "Yes, and that's all he does own," replied Florence. "Gene can't keep even a quirt. But he sure loves that horse and calls him "
Let's go home, mother. Let's go home and breathe." In Wisconsin you are likely to find snow in April snow or slush. The Brewsters found both. Yet on their way up from the station in 'Gene Buck's flivver taxi, they beamed out at it as if it were a carpet of daisies. At the corner of Elm and Jackson Streets Hosey Brewster stuck his head out of the window. "Stop here a minute, will you, 'Gene?"
A sea story that my Cousin Donald Ewan gave me at Christmas inspired me to compose one of a somewhat different nature; incidentally, I deemed it a vast improvement on Cousin Donald's book. Now, if I only had a boat, with the assistance of Ham Durrett and Tom Peters, Gene Hollister and Perry Blackwood and other friends, this story of mine might be staged.
It was part of some unidentifiable cadaver which he'd presumably brought with him for just such a use. Anyway, they had Azol's gene patterns on record, and they didn't jibe." His desk transmitter buzzed and Trigger took it on an earphone extension. "Argee," she said. She listened a moment. "All right. Coming over." She stood up, replacing the earphone. "Office tangle," she explained.
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