You would find things to laugh at even in Artemus Ward. “Will you tell Sydney that I will see him in the morning,” he said. She did not understand the note of hostility to men that ran through it all, the bitter vindictiveness that lit Miss Miniver’s cheeks and eyes, the sense of some at last insupportable wrong slowly accumulated. We needn’t try and give ourselves airs. He too was flushed and ruffled; one side of his collar had slipped from its stud and he held a hand to the corner of his jaw. His feet would have the firm texture of his hands. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. . The office is a sight—not one sheet of paper on another; bills and receipts everywhere.
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