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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"The Story of a Mine"

There are certain large, fleshy men with whom the
omission of even a necktie or collar has all the effect of an indecent
exposure. The Hon. Mr. Gashwiler, in his trousers and shirt, was a sight
to be avoided by the modest eye. There were such palpable suggestions of
vast extents of unctuous flesh in the slight glimpse offered by his open
throat that his dishabille should have been as private as his business.
Nevertheless, when there was a knock at his door he unhesitatingly said,
"Come in!"--pushing away a goblet crowned with a certain aromatic herb
with his right hand, while he drew towards him with his left a few proof
slips of his forthcoming speech. The Gashwiler brow became, as it were,
intelligently abstracted.
The intruder regarded Gashwiler with a glance of familiar recognition
from his right eye, while his left took in a rapid survey of the papers
on the table, and gleamed sardonically.
"You are at work, I see," he said apologetically.
"Yes," replied the Congressman, with an air of perfunctory
weariness,--"one of my speeches.


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