A man to Whom Time Was Money, and
who was bolting his breakfast in order to catch a
train, had leaned his newspaper against the sugar-bowl
and was reading as he ate. In his haste and abstraction
he stuck a pickle-fork into his right eye, and on
removing the fork the eye came with it. In
buying spectacles the needless outlay for the right
lens soon reduced him to poverty, and the Man to Whom
Time Was Money had to sustain life by fishing from
the end of a wharf.
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