“Dear Jack,” she says, all smiles and sugar; “dear Jack, I’ve just heard. Edith has told me, though I’d suspected something for a long, long time, you rogue,” and she fetched him another kittenish clip with the fan.
Jack looked about the way I once saw old Miss Curley, the president of the Good Templars back in our town in Missouri, look at a party when she half-swallowed a spoonful of her ice cream before she discovered that it was flavored with liquor
Letters from a Self-Made Merchant to His Son / Being the Letters written by John Graham, Head of the House / of Graham & Company, Pork-Packers in Chicago, familiarly / known on 'Change as "Old Gorgon Graham," to his Son, / Pierrepont, facetiously know
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George Horace Lorimer
