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Tarkington, Booth, 1869-1946

"The Magnificent Ambersons"

He oversees shooting
oil-wells, too, and shoots 'em himself, sometimes. They aren't
allowed to carry it on the railroads, you know--have to team it.
Young Akers says George rides around over the bumpy roads, sitting on
as much as three hundred quarts of nitroglycerin! My Lord! Talk
about romantic tumbles! If he gets blown sky-high some day he won't
have a bigger drop, when he comes down, than he's already had! Don't
it beat the devil! Young Akers said he's got all the nerve there is
in the world. Well, he always did have plenty of that--from the time
he used to ride around here on his white pony and fight all the Irish
boys in Can-Town, with his long curls all handy to be pulled out.
Akers says he gets a fair salary, and I should think he ought to!
Seems to me I've heard the average life in that sort of work is
somewhere around four years, and agents don't write any insurance at
all for nitroglycerin experts. Hardly!"
"No," said Eugene. "I suppose not."
Kinney rose to go. "Well, it's a pretty funny thing--pretty odd, I
mean--and I suppose it would be pass-around-the-hat for old Fanny
Minafer if he blew up.


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