The Gilded Age


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So I sticks to 'em. Und I makes noting. Dat Mister Prierly, he don't  
never come back here no more, ain't it?"  
"
Why?" asked Philip.  
"Vell, dere is so many peers, and so many oder dhrinks, I got 'em all set  
down, ven he coomes back."  
It was a long night for Philip, and a restless one. At any other time  
the swing of the cars would have lulled him to sleep, and the rattle and  
clank of wheels and rails, the roar of the whirling iron would have only  
been cheerful reminders of swift and safe travel. Now they were voices  
of warning and taunting; and instead of going rapidly the train seemed to  
crawl at a snail's pace. And it not only crawled, but it frequently  
stopped; and when it stopped it stood dead still and there was an ominous  
silence. Was anything the matter, he wondered. Only a station probably.  
Perhaps, he thought, a telegraphic station. And then he listened  
eagerly. Would the conductor open the door and ask for Philip Sterling,  
and hand him a fatal dispatch?  
How long they seemed to wait. And then slowly beginning to move, they  
were off again, shaking, pounding, screaming through the night. He drew  
his curtain from time to time and looked out. There was the lurid sky  
line of the wooded range along the base of which they were crawling.  
There was the Susquehannah, gleaming in the moon-light. There was a  
stretch of level valley with silent farm houses, the occupants all at  
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670 671 672 673 674

Quick Jump
1 170 341 511 681