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Lewis, Sinclair, 1885-1951

"Our Mr. Wrenn, the Romantic Adventures of a Gentle Man"


Pete, the tough, was very evil. He sneered. He stole. He
bullied. He was a drunkard and a person without cleanliness of
speech. Tim, the hatter, was a loud-talking weakling, under
Pete's domination. Tim wore a dirty rubber collar without a
tie, and his soul was like his neckware.
McGarver, the under-boss, was a good shepherd among the men,
though he had recently lost the head foremanship by a spree
complicated with language and violence. He looked like one of
the _Merian_ bulls, with broad short neck and short curly hair
above a thick-skinned deeply wrinkled low forehead. He never
undressed, but was always seen, as now, in heavy shoes and
blue-gray woolen socks tucked over the bottoms of his overalls.
He was gruff and kind and tyrannical and honest.
Wrennie shook and drew his breath sharply as the foghorn yawped
out its "Whawn-n-n-n" again, reminding him that they were
still in the Bank fog; that at any moment they were likely to be
stunned by a heart-stopping crash as some liner's bow burst
through the fo'c'sle's walls in a collision.


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