Difference between revisions of "Talk:Some Buried Caesar"
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‘Much obliged for nothing. Phooey. You’re accustomed to feeling pleased because you’re Nero Wolfe, aren’t you? All right, on my modest scale I permit myself a similar feeling about Archie Goodwin. When did you ever give me an errand that you seriously expected me to perform and I didn’t perform it? I’ve got a right to expect that when Archie Goodwin is told to watch a pasture and see that nothing happens to a bull, nothing will happen. And you tell me that nothing happened to the bull, the bull’s all right, he just killed a man ... what do you call that kind of suds?’ (Chapter 4) | ‘Much obliged for nothing. Phooey. You’re accustomed to feeling pleased because you’re Nero Wolfe, aren’t you? All right, on my modest scale I permit myself a similar feeling about Archie Goodwin. When did you ever give me an errand that you seriously expected me to perform and I didn’t perform it? I’ve got a right to expect that when Archie Goodwin is told to watch a pasture and see that nothing happens to a bull, nothing will happen. And you tell me that nothing happened to the bull, the bull’s all right, he just killed a man ... what do you call that kind of suds?’ (Chapter 4) | ||
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| + | == Lily Rowan 'peels' Archie Goodwin in a Methodist tent == | ||
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| + | ‘He has no right to be talking about me. Anyway, not to you.’ Her eyes moved up me and over me, up from my chest over my face to the top of my head, and then slowly travelled down again. ‘Not to you, Escamillo,’ she said. I wanted to slap her, because her tone, and the look in her eyes going over me, made me feel like a potato she was peeling. (Chapter 6) | ||
Revision as of 20:10, 5 July 2007
Archie Goodwin
‘Much obliged for nothing. Phooey. You’re accustomed to feeling pleased because you’re Nero Wolfe, aren’t you? All right, on my modest scale I permit myself a similar feeling about Archie Goodwin. When did you ever give me an errand that you seriously expected me to perform and I didn’t perform it? I’ve got a right to expect that when Archie Goodwin is told to watch a pasture and see that nothing happens to a bull, nothing will happen. And you tell me that nothing happened to the bull, the bull’s all right, he just killed a man ... what do you call that kind of suds?’ (Chapter 4)
Lily Rowan 'peels' Archie Goodwin in a Methodist tent
‘He has no right to be talking about me. Anyway, not to you.’ Her eyes moved up me and over me, up from my chest over my face to the top of my head, and then slowly travelled down again. ‘Not to you, Escamillo,’ she said. I wanted to slap her, because her tone, and the look in her eyes going over me, made me feel like a potato she was peeling. (Chapter 6)
