Felix O'Day by Francis Hopkinson Smith
page 34 of 421 (08%)
page 34 of 421 (08%)
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back, short skirt, stout shoes, and gray yarn stockings.
"I don't care where it is--Hoboken, Brooklyn--I'll get it. Why, we got a trunk last week clear from Yonkers!" "I haven't a doubt of it, my good woman"--he was still absorbed in the contemplation of her perfect health and the air of breezy competency flowing out from her, making even the morning air seem more exhilarating--"but you may not want to go for my two trunks." "Why not?" She was serious now, her brows knitting, trying to solve his meaning. Kling shuffled up alongside. "It's de room he vants, Kitty. I been tellin' him about it. Bobby says dot odder man skipped an' you don't got nobody now. "Skipped! I threw him out, me and John, for swearin' every time he stubbed his toe on the stairs," and up went her strong arms in illustration. "And it isn't yer trunks, but me room. Who might ye be wantin' it for?" She had begun to weigh him carefully in return. Up to this moment he had been to her merely the mouthpiece of an order, to be exchanged later for a card, or slip of paper, or a brass check. Now he became a personality. She swept him from head to foot with one of her "sizing-up" examinations, noticing |
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