Imagine! Hurling a full-grown man from a window--" "I don't hear nobody laughing." Briskow swung his head slowly from side to side.
"But to contemplate murder--" "What's more, I don't intend to hear nobody laugh.

By God! Now I come to think about it, there ain't a-goin' to be no laughing at all around here." Gus continued slowly to swing his head, like a bear.

"She's my kid!" He pushed past Mrs.Ring, still muttering, "My kid--there ain't a-goin' to be no laughing at all." Going directly to the desk, he asked for the manager, then stood aside, hat in hand, until the latter made his appearance.

The manager began a hasty and rather mixed apology on behalf of the hotel for what had occurred in the dancing room, but his tone of annoyance was an accusation in itself.

It was plain that, to his mind, the catastrophe on the eighteenth green outweighed in importance whatever may have led up to it.