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She's been good ter me, Miss Clemency, mam 'as an' so when I seen 'im strugglin' an' a-tryin' to kiss 'er when I 'eered 'er cry out I came in froo de winder, an' I kicked 'im, I did, an' then " "Imp," said the Viscount gravely, "you are forgetting your aitches! And so Sir Mortimer's friend kissed her, did he? Mind your aitches now!" "Yes, m' lud; an' when Hi seen the tears hin her eyes "
"Oh, did you?" "I likewise 'eered her call your name Beverley, I think?" "Yes, well?" "Beverley!" repeated Mr. Shrig. "Yes." "But your name's Barty!" "True, but in London I'm known as Beverley, Mr. Shrig." "Not not the Beverley? Not the bang up Corinthian? Not the Beverley as is to ride in the steeplechase?" "Yes," said Barnabas, "the very same, why?" "Now dang me for a ass!" exclaimed Mr.
Marcella went out into the passage. "I'm her mother, miss! I 'eered you were 'ere, an' I follered yer. Oh! such a business as we 'ad, 'er 'usband an' me, a gettin' of 'er 'ome last night. There's a neighbour come to me, an' she says: 'Mrs.
"If they can do them other things they'd used to do when livin' walkin' an' seein' an' such-like why not coughin'?" Betts shook his head. "Never 'eered on it," he said, with conviction. "Well, anyways I seed him come down to that shed, an' then I lost 'im. But I 'ad the creeps somehow and I called to Jenny to come an' take the 'orses. An' then I went after 'im.
He stopped, onst or twice, as though he wor restin' hisself pullin' 'isself together and onst I 'eered 'im cough " Halsey looked round suddenly on his companion as though daring him to mock. Betts, however, could not help himself. He gave an interrupting and sceptical chuckle. "Ghostisses don't cough, as ever I 'eered on." "And why shouldn't they?" said Halsey testily.
'Ay, sez my feyther, 'an' I guess you 're Black Dan. 'Sure as you 're born! sez Black Dan, 'I've 'eered o' you before to-day, 'Andsome 'Arry, sez 'e, 'an' meant to make your acquaintance afore this, but I 've been kep' too busy till to-night, sez 'e, 'but 'ere ve are at last, 'e sez, 'an' now vot d' ye think o' that? sez 'e, an' pi'nts a pistol under my feyther's werry nose.
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