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Mr. Garfinkel and the Lepra-Cohen Charles R. Tanner It's embarassing to be in debt - but to be indebted to the extent of granting your benefactor a pot of gold is even worse... especially if you've forgotten how! Mr. Samuel Garfinkel gasped, jerked his foot off the accelerator, jammed on the brake, swung the car sharply to the right and then almost instantly back again. There was a squealing of brakes, a scraping of tires on the road and then the car was back in the right lane (the right lane was the left lane, of course, for this was happening in Ireland), arid Mr. Garfinkel put his foot cautiously on the gas pedal. "Mesliugah Irisher!" he muttered, half aloud. "He should drop right away dead from fright!" He glanced back through the rear view mirror and saw the object of his imprecations emerging again onto the road. The said object was one of those incredibly small, dried up old Irishmen who seems to grow smaller and drier every year of his life, he had appeared suddenly from the row of trees that lined the road, dazed and panic-stricken, directly in the beam of light from Mr. Garfinkel's car. And now, while Mr. Garfinkel's heart was still in his mouth, the little man was again essaying the crossing of the road, still as dazed and panic-stricken as ever. "If he lives yet the night out, I'll be surprised |
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