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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"The Rose in the Ring"

That's wot they swung 'im for. I daresay
that's why Dick 'as never took to drink. He says it takes the polish
off from a chap's ambition."
All this time, at the back of the "snack-stand" across the lot the
Cronk brothers were engaged in earnest conversation, low-toned and
serious, irascible on the part of the one, conciliatory on the part of
the other.
"You know I give you half _always_, Ernie," said tall Dick, almost
plaintively. "I never hold out on you."
"You say you don't," snarled the other between his teeth. "You got
more than twenty dollars out of that guy last night, didn't you? I
know you did."
"S' help me God, Ernie, I didn't get a--"
"He had nearly fifty dollars in the saloon."
"I don't know where it got to, then. I nipped only two tens, I swear,
Ernie. Why, I wouldn't do you a dirty trick like that for the world."
"You done me a dirty trick once," grated the misshapen lad. "If it
hadn't been for you I'd be as straight as anybody and I--"
"Don't begin on that again, Ernie," pleaded Dick. "Ain't you ever
going to give me a rest on that? Ain't I trying to make up for it, the
best I know how?"
"Yes, and didn't you let 'em catch you back there in Staunton? Is that
the way you make it up? Letting me starve--almost.


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