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Tarkington, Booth, 1869-1946

"The Turmoil, a novel"

"
"Well, when are you comin' back to your office?" Sheridan used a
brisker, kinder tone. "Three weeks since you showed up there at all.
When you goin' to be ready to cut out whiskey and all the rest o' the
foolishness and start in again? You ought to be able to make up for
a lot o' lost time and a lot o' spilt milk when that woman takes
herself out o' the way and lets you and all the rest of us alone."
"It's no use, father, I tell you. I know what Gurney was going to say
to you. I'm not going back to the office. I'm DONE!"
"Wait a minute before you talk that way!" Sheridan began his
sentry-go up and down the room. "I suppose you know it's taken two
pretty good men about sixteen hours a day to set things straight and
get 'em runnin' right again, down in your office?"
"They must be good men." Roscoe nodded indifferently. "I thought I
was doing about eight men's work. I'm glad you found two that could
handle it."
"Look here! If I worked you it was for your own good. There are
plenty men drive harder'n I do, and--"
"Yes. There are some that break down all the other men that work with
'em. They either die, or go crazy, or have to quit, and are no use
the rest of their lives.


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