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You never took a drink all this mornin'—jus' sit there kickin', kickin', kickin'. Where d'ya think ya goin' to land? In a coffin, that's where. The boss won't thank ya for killin' yourself on his old foot press, neither. You're jus' a fool, workin' like that.” And that's just what I decided. “Lay off now and then.” Yes indeed, I was going to lay off now and then.
"Will you go right on up, or would you like a bite of somethin' to eat first?" At the mere hint of food, a frightful pang of hunger transfixed P. Sybarite. He winked furtively, afraid to trust Iris tongue to speech. "What d'ya say?" insinuated the doorkeeper. "Just a bit of a snack, eh? Say a caviare sandwich and a thimbleful of the grape?"
Butler heavily in the lower ribs with his right, causing that expert to clinch and the two wise guys to utter sharp barking sounds expressive of derision. "Say, what the hell d'ya think you're getting at?" demanded the aggrieved pugilist in a heated whisper in Ginger's ear as they fell into the embrace. "What's the idea, you jelly bean?" Ginger maintained a pink silence.
"Ay, neebors," resumed the bailiff, "we can laugh now, you an' me, but theer's many on ya could tell o' your own mishappenin's if ya had a mind to 't. As fur me, I bided my time. One day I cotched the leader o' them boys nigh corn market, an' I laid him across the badgerin' stone and walloped him nineteen twenty hee! hee! D'ya mind that, General?"
Come and join the navy and see the world! "Well, he looks around, and, although I guess he didn't much wanta leave them girls, he decides that he'll come and see what the big game is. So he salutes the corpse and steps in beside me and whispers, 'Say, chief, what's the idea? "'Whadd 'ya think, you poor cheese? I sez. 'D'ya think it's a weddin'? Get in step. We're goin' to bury a French poiloo.
Sometimes too much, if it were home-canned goods which had stood too many years on the shelves, due to lack of boarders to eat the same. But the sisters Weston meant the best. “How d'ya like the punkin pie?” the older, Miss Belle, would ask. The pumpkin pie had seemed to taste a trifle strange, but we laid it to the fact that it was some time since we had eaten pumpkin pie. “It tastes all right.”
Why, he talks English as good as you and me. That's another thing about these frawgs they can all parlez-vous any language. I never yet seen a Frenchie I couldn't talk to yet." "Did you ever see anybody you couldn't talk to yet, Steve?" suggested the chief yeoman. "Here, you, how d'ya get that way? Who was it I seen th' other night out walking in the Boy de Bullone with a skirt?
"Why, I reckon nothin' a-tall. Only that this mo'nin' I put a match to about a coupla hundred thousand dollars belongin' to Crawford, Sanders, and Hart." Eagerly Steelman clutched his arm. "You did it, then?" "Didn't I say I'd do it?" snapped Doble irritably. "D'ya ever know me rue back on a bargain?" "Never." "Wha's more, you never will. I fired the chaparral above Bear Cañon. The wind was right.
Eyes locked and held, but nothing happened. "D'ya think I'm dumb? Or that them subspace Boy Scouts can be fixed? Or I don't know where the heavy grease is at? Or I can't make the approach? Why ain't you in subspace?" "I see." Lopresto forced his anger down. "But I've got to be sure we can get back without 'em." "You can be damn sure. I got to get back myself, don't I? But get one thing down solid.
Say, d'ya know a guy by the name of Shafton?" "Shafton?" asked the man astonished, "are you going to Shafton's?" "Sure," said Billy, "anything wrong about that? Where does he hang out?" The look of Billy, and more than all the smell of him made it quite apparent to the casual observer that he had been drinking, and the man eyed him compassionately. "Poor little fool! He's beginning young.
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