"Married!" he cried, "an' t' him! He's foolin' ye, Hermy, by God he is!
Girl, I'm tellin' ye straight an' true--he'll never marry ye. His kind
don't marry Tenth Av'ner girls--Nooport an' Fifth Av'ner's a good ways
from Hell's Kitchen an' Tenth Av'ner, an' they can't ever come t'gether,
I reckon."
"Ah!" sighed she, falling back a step, "what do you mean?"
"Why, I mean," said M'Ginnis, twisting the neckerchief in his powerful
hands much as if it had been the neck of some enemy, "I mean as this guy
as comes here bluffin' about bein' down an' out, this guy as plays at
sellin' peanuts is--Geoffrey Ravenslee, the millionaire."
"But--he is--Arthur's friend!"
"Friend--nothin'!" said he, wringing and wrenching at the neckerchief,
"I guess you ain't found out how th' Kid an' him came t' meet, eh? Well,
I'll tell ye--listen! Your brother broke in to this millionaire's swell
house--through the winder--an' this millionaire caught him."
"Oh," said she, smiling in bitter scorn, "what a clumsy liar you are,
Bud M'Ginnis!"
"No," he cried eagerly, "no, I ain't tellin' ye no lies; it's God's own
truth I'm givin' ye.
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