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Tarkington, Booth, 1869-1946

"The Turmoil, a novel"

"
He looked upon her wanly. "That's my trouble, mother," he murmured.
"I'm a plain, blunt fellow. I have rough ways, and I'm a rough man."
For once she perceived some meaning in his queerness. "Hush your
nonsense!" she said, good-naturedly, the astral of a troubled smile
appearing. "You go to bed."
He kissed her and obeyed.

Edith gave him a cold greeting the next morning at the breakfast-
table.
"You mustn't do that under a misapprehension," he warned her, when
they were alone in the dining-room.
"Do what under a what?" she asked.
"Speak to me. I came into the smoking-room last night 'on purpose,'"
he told her, gravely. "I have a prejudice against that young man."
She laughed. "I guess you think it means a great deal who you have
prejudices against!" In mockery she adopted the manner of one who
implores. "Bibbs, for pity's sake PROMISE me, DON'T use YOUR
influence with papa against him!" And she laughed louder.
"Listen," he said, with peculiar earnestness. "I'll tell you now,
because--because I've decided I'm one of the family." And then,
as if the earnestness were too heavy for him to carry it further,
he continued, in his usual tone, "I'm drunk with power, Edith.


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