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'We 'll drop a hint. Where's Dartrey? 'He'll come. He's in one of his black moods: not temper. He's got a notion he killed his wife by dragging her to Africa with him. She was not only ready to go, she was glad to go. She had a bit of the heroine in her and a certainty of tripping to the deuce if she was left to herself. 'Tell Nataly that, said Victor. 'And tell her about Dartrey. Harp on it.
"Don't see how you can have. She hasn't been out of the South Seas for six years, and before then " "But," began Davidson, and then, "Yes that's the ship I dreamt of, I'm sure that's the ship I dreamt of. She was standing off an island that swarmed with penguins, and she fired a gun." "Good Lord!" said Atkins, who had now heard the particulars of the seizure. "How the deuce could you dream that?"
Monte was conscious of a burning pain in his shoulder, and he was not quite certain as to where he was. So he hitched up on one elbow. This caused a shadow to detach itself from the dark at the other end of the room a shadow that rustled and came toward him. It is small wonder that he was startled. "Who the deuce are you?" he inquired in plain English.
Old Tom looked full in her face, and bawled out: 'Deuce take it. Are you a woman? 'I have borne three girls and one boy, said Mrs. Mel. 'What sort of a husband? 'He is dead. 'Ha! that's an opening, but 'tain't an answer. I'm off to Beckley on a marriage business. I 'm the son of a cobbler, so I go in a donkey-cart. No damned pretences for me.
"Gentleman," said he, "be pleased to begin by moderating your own obscurity; and then perhaps I shall see better how to cure my son's disorder. What the deuce are you driving at?" The two doctors looked at one another inquiringly, and so settled how to proceed. Dr. Wycherley explained to Mr.
And the tall, thin fellow, the artist whose picture had been badly hung, and who had pursued him since the morning, as enraged as ever, left a table where he was seated at the further end of the buffet, and again hurried forward to complain, imperatively demanding 'the line' at once. 'Oh! go to the deuce! at last cried Fagerolles, his patience and amiability exhausted.
Tears of pure vexation started; she faced him, eye to eye, thoroughly incensed. "What sort of man are you?" she said under her breath. "Your friend Mr. Kerns is wrong. You are not worth saving from yourself." "Kerns!" he repeated, angry and amazed. "What the deuce has Kerns to do with this affair?" She stared, then, realizing her indiscretion, bit her lip, and spurred forward.
"I rode in myself at this moment looking thus, "'Où est le malheureux? said I, in French, you know I speak French like Portuguese." "Devilish like, I've no doubt," muttered Power. "'Pardon, gracias eccellenza! said the alcalde, on his knees." "Who the deuce did he take you for, Major?" "You shall hear; you'll never guess, though. Lord, I shall never forget it!
He isn't guilty: he isn't the man." "Isn't the man?" repeated Farrar. "No," I answered; "it's a long tale, and no time to tell it now. But he is really, as he claims to be, the author of all those detestable books we have been hearing so much of." "The deuce he is!" exclaimed Farrar, dropping the stopper he was tying. "Did he write The Sybarites?"
Don't be in such a deuce of a hurry! I'm going your way." Saltash waited, not too patiently. "My good chap, you're dressed and I'm not! I shall be late for my guests." "What's it matter?" scoffed Bunny breathlessly, reaching his side. "Maud and Jake don't count, and Toby is only a kid. I don't suppose she's ever been out to dine before."
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