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further evidence in our possession

Le 14 juin 2017, 09:40 dans Humeurs 0

The Sanborn Company’s directors were represented by the firm of Whitehead, Leuppold, Tyson and Leuppold. This was one of the firms previously mentioned which had offices upon an upper floor and included among its clients many large corporations closely identified with “The Interests.” A correspondence had been passing between Mr. Gallatin and Mr. Leuppold with all of which Tooker was familiar. Mr. Gallatin’s early letters stated that he hoped for a conference with Mr. Loring. Mr. Leuppold’s first replies were couched in polite formulas, the equivalent of which was, in plain English, that Mr. Gallatin might go to the devil, saying that Mr. Loring had nothing to do with the matter SmarTone. Mr. Gallatin’s reply ignored this suggestion, and again proposed a conference. Mr. Leuppold refused in abrupt terms. Mr. Gallatin gave[275] reasons for his request. Mr. Leuppold couldn’t see them. Mr. Gallatin patiently gave other reasons. Mr. Leuppold ignored this letter. Mr. Gallatin wrote another. Mr. Leuppold in reply considered the matter closed. Mr. Gallatin considered the matter just opened. Mr. Leuppold fulminated politely and satirically suggested intimidation. Mr. Gallatin regretted Mr. Leuppold’s implication but persisted, giving, as his reasons, the discovery of material evidence.

The next day Mr. Leuppold came in person, was shown into Mr. Gallatin’s office and Tooker had been present at the interview. It had been a memorable occasion. Mr. Leuppold wore that suave and confident manner for which he was noted and Gallatin received him with an old-fashioned courtesy and the deference of a younger man for an older, which left nothing to be desired. Accepting this as his due, Leuppold began in a fatherly way to impress upon Gallatin the utter futility of trying to win the injunction in the Court of Appeals. The contentions of Sanborn et al. had no basis either in law or in equity. Mr. Gallatin had doubtless been unduly influenced by doubtful precedents. He, Leuppold, was familiar with every phase of the case and had defended the previous suit which had been brought and lost by a legal firm in Philadelphia Contact Lens and Anterior Eye. There was absolutely nothing in Mr. Gallatin’s position as stated in his correspondence and he concluded by referring “his young friend” to certain marked passages in a volume which he had brought in under his arm. Gallatin read the passages through with interest and listened with a show of great seriousness to Mr. Leuppold’s interpretation of them. Mr. Leuppold had a mien which commanded attention. Gallatin gave it, but he said little in reply which could indicate his possible ground of action, except to express regret that Mr. Leuppold’s clients had[276] taken such an intolerant view of his own client’s claims and to deplore the unfortunate tone of Mr. Leuppold’s own letter of some days ago.

When it was quite clear to Mr. Leuppold that the young man was not to be moved by persuasion, his manner changed.

“I have done my best, Mr. Gallatin,” he said irritably, “to prove to you the utter futility of your course. My clients have nothing to fear. I am only trying to save them the expense of further litigation. But if you insist on bringing this case to trial, we will welcome the opportunity to show . We have been content for the sake of peace to let matters go on as they have been going, but if this suit is pressed, I warn you that it will be unfortunate for your clients .”

must go away on business and for

Le 13 juin 2017, 07:04 dans Humeurs 0

This thought sent the blood rushing to her cheeks and hardened her heart against him. He was with Nina Jaffray, of course. In his last letter he had written that he  two mornings no letter arrived. She missed these letters and was furious with herself that it was so. But the energy of her anger was conserved in the form of further favors for Coley Van Duyn who radiated it in rapturous good-will toward all the world. When the letters were resumed, she locked them in her desk unread, determining upon his return to town to make them into a package and send them back in bulk. Many times she unlocked her desk and scrutinized the envelopes, but it was always to thrust them into their drawer which she shut and locked each time with quite unnecessary violence.

“Mr. Gallatin is nothing to me.”

Mrs. Pennington leaned back in her chair and smiled.

“You told me that your faith in Phil was unending.[234] Your eternity, my dear, lasted precisely one week.”

Jane flashed around at her passionately, aroused at last, as Nellie Pennington intended that she should be.

“Oh, why couldn’t he have explained?”

“Explain! At the expense of another girl? Phil is a gentleman.”

Mrs. Pennington had had that reply ready. She had considered it carefully for some days.

Jane paused, and her eyes, scarcely credulous, sought the face of her visitor. Nellie Pennington met her look eagerly.

“Nina Jaffray’s,” she went on. “Could Phil tell why it happened? Obviously not.”

“But he kissed her——”

Mrs. Pennington shrugged her pretty shoulders.

“As to that, Nina, of course, had reasons of her own.”

“Nina—Miss Jaffray—reasons?”

“She probably asked him to——”


“She did.”

“Do you know that?”

“No, but I know Nina.”

“I can’t see that that alters anything.”

“But it does—amazingly—if you’ll only think about it.”

“I saw it all.”

“Oh! Did you? I’m glad.”

“Glad! Oh, Nellie!”

“Of course. Think how much worse it might have seemed if you hadn’t.”

“I don’t understand.”

“If some one else had told you, you might have believed anything.”


“I saw enough to believe——”

“What did you see?”

“He—he—he just kissed her.”

“Oh, Jane, think! What did you see? Why should Phil kiss a girl he doesn’t love? Aren’t there any kisses in the world but lovers kisses? Think. You must. Phil’s whole life and yours depend upon it.”

Jane rose and walked quickly to the window.

“This conversation—is impossible.”

Nellie Pennington watched her narrowly. She had created a diversion upon the flank, which, if it did nothing else, had temporarily driven Jane’s forces back in confusion. She looked anxiously toward the door of the drawing-room and then smiled, for a figure had entered and was coming forward without hesitation.

With one eye on Jane, who was still looking out of the window, Nellie Pennington rose and greeted the newcomer.

“Hello, Phil. I had almost given you up. You don’t mind, do you, Jane. I had to see Mr. Gallatin and asked if he wouldn’t stop for me here.”

At the sound of his name Jane had twisted around and now faced them, breathless. Mrs. Pennington was smiling carelessly, but Phil Gallatin, hat in hand, stood with bowed head before her. At the door into the hallway, the butler, somewhat uncertainly, hovered.

would be a railroad crossing

Le 27 octobre 2016, 09:44 dans Humeurs 0

 For the whole of the first day they wandered about in the midst of deafening confusion, utterly lost; and it was only at night that, cowering in the doorway of a house, they were finally discovered and taken by a policeman to the station. In the morning an interpreter was found, and they were taken and put upon a car, and taught a new word—"stockyards." Their delight at discovering that they were to get out of this adventure without losing another share of their possessions it would not be possible to describe You Find.

They sat and stared out of the window. They were on a street which seemed to run on forever, mile after mile—thirty-four of them, if they had known it—and each side of it one uninterrupted row of wretched little two-story frame buildings. Down every side street they could see, it was the same—never a hill and never a hollow, but always the same endless vista of ugly and dirty little wooden buildings. Here and there would be a bridge crossing a filthy creek, with hard-baked mud shores and dingy sheds and docks along it; here and there , with a tangle of switches, and locomotives puffing, and rattling freight cars filing by; here and there would be a great factory, a dingy building with innumerable windows in it, and immense volumes of smoke pouring from the chimneys, darkening the air above and making filthy the earth beneath. But after each of these interruptions, the desolate procession would begin again—the procession of dreary little buildings.

A full hour before the party reached the city they had begun to note the perplexing changes in the atmosphere. It grew darker all the time, and upon the earth the grass seemed to grow less green. Every minute, as the train sped on, the colors of things became dingier; the fields were grown parched and yellow, the landscape hideous and bare. And along with the thickening smoke they began to notice another circumstance, a strange, pungent odor hotel jobs.

They were not sure that it was unpleasant, this odor; some might have called it sickening, but their taste in odors was not developed, and they were only sure that it was curious. Now, sitting in the trolley car, they realized that they were on their way to the home of it—that they had traveled all the way from Lithuania to it. It was now no longer something far off and faint, that you caught in whiffs; you could literally taste it, as well as smell it—you could take hold of it, almost, and examine it at your leisure. They were divided in their opinions about it. It was an elemental odor, raw and crude; it was rich, almost rancid, sensual, and strong. There were some who drank it in as if it were an intoxicant; there were others who put their handkerchiefs to their faces. The new emigrants were still tasting it, lost in wonder, when suddenly the car came to a halt, and the door was flung open, and a voice shouted—"Stockyards Natur-a HK!"

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