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Show Jeffries, Section 3, Page 28 colored man had once ventured down into a great-grandfather's village, and put the strong-arm on his ancestor, and the mysterious stranger from the northern desert had hauled this great-grandfather away, while the frightened, painted women ran twittering about the village like birds. "Well, suh, right now we selling to commercial accounts only." "Yesss," the bills fluttered, "I give you the American currency, you ingest the gasoline into my cars, a commercial account, yes?" The Pooh-bah scowled up past the vans to where Dory Clayton was folding the top back on the stingray convertible. "Wazir make a note that I'll have one of those, and that color, too. . Okay, Dory thought, at least I was the first on my block to have--and he looked with disappointment down the service lane at the Arabian king, as if they'd both worn the same dress to a party. The station owner worked his way around the wide cars. "Tom are we having trouble here?" "Well boss, they tellin' me, they demandin'--" The agent boomed out, "The patience of a Pooh-bah--" The owner shook his head and looked bitterly at the |