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"I'm a good newspaper man, Mr. Dyckman, and that means I've kept
quiet about even better stories than I've sprung. If I had a lot of
money now I'd add this story to the list and treat Gilfoyle's folks
right without giving you a look-in. But being dead-broke, I thought
maybe you'd like to see things done in a decent manner. It's going
to be hard enough for that old couple up-State to get Tommie back,
as they've got to, without taking any excess heartbreak up in the
baggage-car. Do you follow me?"
"I do," said Dyckman; and now he asked the "How much?" that he
had refused to speak the night before.
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"The same to you, Mr. Dyckman."
Dyckman felt himself nettled. Kedzie's silence about the existence
of a husband had enmeshed him. He would not attempt to justify
himself. It would do no good to thresh about. The big gladiator
sat still waiting for the _retiarius_ to finish him. But
Connery's voice grew merciful. It was a luxury beyond price to
extend an alms to this plutocrat.
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Charity was disappointed in Mr. Hodshon. He looked so ordinary,
and yet he must know such terrible things about people. We always
expect doctors, lawyers, priests, and detectives to show the scars
of the searing things they know. As if we did not all of us know
enough about ourselves and others to eat our eyes out, if knowledge
were corrosive!
Charity was further disappointed in Hodshon's lack of
picturesqueness. He was like no detective she had read about
between Sherlock Holmes and Philo Gubb. He was like no detective
at all. It was almost impossible to accept him as her agent.
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in liaison with a definite person, and to be confronted in shabby
clothes with that person all dressed up. When she hurried to the
Church for mercy it was desolation to learn from the pulpit that
her heart clamor for divorce was not a cleanly and aseptic impulse,
but an impious contribution to the filthy social condition of the
United States.
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