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Chesnutt, Charles W. (Charles Waddell), 1858-1932

"The Marrow of Tradition"


"No, suh, co'se I won't! Does I ever tell 'im 'bout yo' gwines-on? Ef I
did," he added to himself, as the young man disappeared down the street,
"I wouldn' have time ter do nothin' e'se ha'dly. I don' know whether
I'll ever see dat money agin er no, do' I 'magine de ole gent'eman
wouldn' lemme lose it ef he knowed. But I ain' gwine ter tell him,
whether I git my money back er no, fer he is jes' so wrop' up in dat boy
dat I b'lieve it'd jes' break his hea't ter fin' out how he's be'n
gwine on. Doctuh Price has tol' me not ter let de ole gent'eman git
ixcited, er e'se dere's no tellin' w'at mought happen. He's be'n good
ter me, he has, an' I'm gwine ter take keer er him,--dat's w'at I is,
ez long ez I has de chance."
* * * * *
Delamere went directly to the club, and soon lounged into the card-room,
where several of the members were engaged in play. He sauntered here and
there, too much absorbed in his own thoughts to notice that the
greetings he received were less cordial than those usually exchanged
between the members of a small and select social club. Finally, when
Augustus, commonly and more appropriately called "Gus," Davidson came
into the room, Tom stepped toward him.
"Will you take a hand in a game, Gus?"
"Don't care if I do," said the other. "Let's sit over here."
Davidson led the way to a table near the fireplace, near which stood a
tall screen, which at times occupied various places in the room.


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