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written by "McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928"
...t the stranger glared at him. “The Cubs?” he said, his voice hardening, his manner turning aggressive. “They make the Giants look like two-spots,” went on our friend, recklessly. The stranger looked him over pityingly and then ended the conversation by deliberately hiding himself behind his newspaper. Our hero opened his lips to add further comment, but something in the way the paper crackled caused 14 him to close them and turn back to his bitter survey of the Hudson. And the confounded fellow had invited his confidence, too! He got down at Tarrytown and started up the hill. The station-master pointed him out to a friend. “That’s—er—What’s-His-Name—Nellie Duluth’s husband.” “That guy?” “She keeps him up here in a cottage to take care of the baby. Away from the temptations of the city,” said the agent, with a broad wink. “I didn’t know she was married,” said his friend, who lived in Yonkers. “Well, she is.” Mr.—(I declare, his name escapes me, so I will call him by his Christian name, Harvey)—Harvey, utterly oblivious to the pitying scrutiny of the two men, moved slowly up the road, homeward bound. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to light a “Sweet Cap,” threw back his unimposing shoulders, and accelerated his gait a trifle in deference to his position as the master of a celebrity. It was his habit to take a rather roundabout way up to the little cottage on the hill. The 15 route led him past a certain drug store and a grocer’s where he was on speaking terms with the clerks. They knew him. He did the marketing, but the account was in Miss Duluth’s name. A livery stable, too, was on the line of progress. He occasionally stopped in to engage a pony phaeton for a drive in the afternoon with Phoebe. To-day he passed these places by. Every one seemed to be b...

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