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Farnol, Jeffery, 1878-1952

"The Definite Object A Romance of New York"

See, if you'll only lemme go, I'll
do d' square thing and get a steady job like Hermy wants me to--honest,
I will, sir! Y' see, me sister's away to-night--she does needleworks for
swell folks an' stops with 'em sometimes--so if you'll only let me beat
it, I can skin back an' she'll never know! Ah!--lemme go, sir!"
"Well then," sighed Mr. Ravenslee, "for her sake I will let you
go--wait! I'll let you go and never speak of your--er--little escapade
here, if you will take me with you."
Now at this, Spike gaped and fell back a step.
"Go wi' me--wi' me?" he stammered. "You--go wi' me to Hell's Kitchen--to
Mulligan's Dump--you! Say, what kind o' song and dance are you giving
me, anyway? Aw--quit yer kiddin', sir!"
"But I mean it."
"On--on d' level?"
"On the level."
"Holy Gee!" and Spike relapsed into wide-eyed, voiceless wonder.
"Is it a go?" enquired Mr. Ravenslee.
"But--but, say--" stammered the boy, glancing from the elegant figure in
the chair around the luxurious room and back again, "but you're a--a--"
"Just a poor, disconsolate, lonely--er--guy!"
"What!" cried Spike, staring around him again, "with all this? Oh, yes,
you're homeless and starving, you are--I don't think!"
"Is it a go?"
"But say--whatcher want to go wi' me for? What's yer game? Put me wise.


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