Plucky cough scrape
No thank you, Hitchcock snapped. Ive had quite enough of these childish games.” She spoke to two employees she knew, society page editor Millie Munson and old Ephraim Ballard who presided over the papers musty, dusty morgue. From Millie she learned that the Egans, while wealthy, were not members of the city’s social elite, neither having come from a moneyed background. Fenton Egan’s partner, William Bradford, was largely responsible for the success of their importing firm; he had put up much of the financing to start the business, and it was his knowledge of teas and spices and their suppliers in the Orient that had made it successful. Fenton’s contribution was public relations and shrewd salesmanship. If he had a penchant for extramarital affairs, Millie was unaware of it. Both heand his wife evidently kept their private lives private and had thus avoided any sort of public scandal. Ephraim, who knew a little about almost everything and everybody mentioned in the pages of theMorning Call, confirmed this. plucky cough scrape Perfectly, added the other. They are being informed. We have no time. GEORGE MACBETH An unknown species of man—or sub-man, his boss said, and prudently Ed remained silent. Two months would tell the tale. It was this feature of the blocks that Traven found particularly disturbing. Despite the considerable number of doors, by some freak of perspective only those in a single aisle were visible at any point within the maze. As he walked from the perimeter line into the center of the massif, line upon line of the small metal doors appeared and receded, a world of closed exits concealed behind endless corners. It isnt as if there were cars to worry about any more, and have you seen how fast he is and how he climbs so good for three and a half? Besides, what can you do when he gets up so early. I know, he said. The machine wrote this yesterday.” He handed me his manuscript. I read the first lines of it, and the pale arch of the sky turned to stone. Fear stabbed me like a pin going through a specimen. I did not know whether I had just been created or was about to be destroyed. Ionly knew that some fearful power had reached down from the sky and trapped us. For the opening words of the machines latest work were these: He was wearing workers overalls and looked as if he had just come out of the yards. I had thought he was older; he couldn’t have been more than fifty. Powerful hands, a wrestler’s shoulders, and a face of brutal splendor whose features seemed to have been chopped out with an axe. But I was immediately struck by the haunted, tortured expression of his eyes. He seemed not only preoccupied but actually obsessed. You saw on his face a real stupor, a kind of astonishment that touched that fine Roman mask of his with a strangely lost, bewildered expression. You could tell, while he was talking to us, that he hadsomething else on his mind, and something much more important to him. But he seemed glad to see Carlos all the same. As for Carlos, he had tears in his eyes. They stood embraced for a minute, gazing at each other affectionately and patting each other on the shoulders. The butler came in with a trayof drinks, and set it down on a table. Carlos drank down his martini, looking around him with obvious disgust. An orange sweater, I said, Al-orange. I knew you werent listening and asked you how an orange sweater would go with- Close your eyes. It wouldnt do for him to be loose. "Watch out for the squiggly devils," Jay shouted. Tenth year thesis. And how will you obtain the essentials of life, Mr. Barone? She put on a sack dress. Jay put on bermudas. In the morning two men came from the garage in Ecuatan to reclaim the car which Vandervell had hired. He offered to pay a months rent in advance, but they rejected this and pointed at the clinkers that had fallen on to the car from the sky. None of them was hot enough to burn the paintwork. Vandervell gave them each fifty dollars and promised to cover the car with a tarpaulin. Satisfied, the men drove away. And of course the publishers were happy. They had to take no authors to lunch, and they had to pay no royalties except a very small one to Ignatius Bulganov for the use of one of his Worthy Worthingtons. Their machines never erred and never produced an immoral or sad book. They whirred out works of joy and hope at a cost of ten cents a copy. Books became the cheapest commodity on the market. There was a tremendous boom in books. The publishers became millionaires. The nation became inspired. Joy and goodness reigned as though in the celestial spheres. And there were no more authors to cause trouble, to disillusion people, to lose money on bad books. The authors all went mad or became useful citizens. And Worthy Worthington married the girl who asked the question:.
