Capitolo 77
"My dear gentleman, the old men cannot afford sour judgments. They is too much neighbors
them really time."
"Yeh?" says absently the Mr. Hines. "I guess that you/he/she is corrected." But his/her mind it was
clearly elsewhere. "When it is able you it says it would be the better time to do
business with the old Funeral-suits?" he asked after a thoughtful break.
"Does he/she want to see Bartholomew Storrs?" I interpreted.
"Sure. Me gout they deliver the certificate of death to him if he races the
doesn't cemetery, have me?"
"Man is the procedure, I believe."
"Besides", he added with a you peer at, "I want to find some of that that have the easy weeping
poetry of his."
"Well; he will quickly sell him him."
"I will say me he will sell me him", he/she returned the Mr. Hines with a grimness that
I didn't succeed in understanding.
"Now it is as good once as some to pick him/it up in his/her office." I sharpened
a signal to the most distant goal of the enclosure.
The Mr. Hines seemed in any hurry to go. With his/her reed elegantly lacquered,
he chose to the covers with grassy sod, undecidedly. His/her cold, veiled eyes wandered around
the open space. He lifted his/her pearl-grey derby, and, for lack of a
handkerchief, dried its forehead with the back of its hand. Even if the
The day of May was fresh and makes with wind active, its knuckles they shone when them
come down. I started to suspect that, despite his/her stone self-control, Mr.
The nerves of Hines were not everybody that they should be.
"The I would perhaps like to introduce her/it to the Mr. Storrs", I risked.
The cold eyes and clouded they sparkled with the weak heat of an instant. "Dominie,
You are a good boy", the responded Mr. Hines. "If a dead breeching strap to the ten to one,
all bore fruit on next week for, some kind of thing to which you don't give on
His/her really brother, would be some use to you--No? I am again" of permission, him
him excused. "Well--we go."
We went. To the door in door of Bartholomew the office of Storrs that he has made a break.
"This verger-boy", he anxiously said, "he doesn't play the ponies, never me