Twelve Men by Theodore Dreiser
page 69 of 399 (17%)
page 69 of 399 (17%)
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"You don't happen to know Charlie Potter?"
"Oh, yas, sah. Ah knows Charlie Potter. Dat's his house right ovah dar." The house in which Charlie Potter lived was a two-story frame, overhanging a sharp slope, which descended directly to the waters of the pretty river below. For a mile or more, the valley of the river could be seen, its slopes dotted with houses, the valley itself lined with mills. Two little girls were upon the sloping lawn to the right of the house. A stout, comfortable-looking man was sitting by a window on the left side of the house, gazing out over the valley. "Is this where Charlie Potter lives?" I inquired of one of the children. "Yes, sir." "Did he live in Noank?" "Yes, sir." Just then a pleasant-faced woman of forty-five or fifty issued from a vine-covered door. "Mr. Potter?" she replied to my inquiry. "He'll be right out." She went about some little work at the side of the house, and in a moment Charlie Potter appeared. He was short, thick-set, and weighed no less than two hundred pounds. His face and hands were sunburned and brown like those of every fisherman of Noank. An old wrinkled coat and a baggy pair of gray trousers clothed his form loosely. Two inches of a |
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