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"It's not often I have the good forchune to be in leddies' society," Mr. Quilty continued. "Me tongue has lost th' right twist for compliments; but, sure, if ut hadn't ut wouldn't begin to do th' pair iv yez justice. Oh, divil th' bit iv soodher am I givin' yez. It's two pretty women yez are. Well, well, I'm an old felly who's had his day. Ye won't mind me.

He moves him around where he pleases." Owen's eyes gleamed avariciously, opposingly. Cowperwood ought to be punished, sold out, driven out of the street-railway business in which Owen was anxious to rise. "Now you know," observed Butler, thickly and solemnly, "I always thought that young felly was clever, but I hardly thought he was as clever as all that. So that's his game.

An' ses I to her, ses I: 'He's lift a bye that's loike him, ma'am, fur a foiner little felly niver sthipped in shoe-leather."

"Sure, ma'am, jest as I told ye this afternoon, the big felly that sassed me last fall, tryin' ter git in ter play his harp, and with his other vagabonds, was hanging around again to-day. I hear him an' his rapscallion companions is in Lumberton. They've been playing about here and there, for a month back. And now I see him comin' along with his harp on his back bad 'cess to him!

The page was about to continue his angry vindication, when Stephen Pontoys and his followers returned upon the spur. "Wenlock holds out bravely," he exclaimed, "though he is felly girded in with these boors. The large crossbows are doing good service; and I little doubt his making his place good till we come up, if it please you to ride something sharply.

As I say, I'm interested in pickin' up a few stocks on 'change; but, to tell you the truth, I'm more interested in findin' some clever young felly like yourself through whom I can work. One thing leads to another, you know, in this world." And he looked at his visitor non-committally, and yet with a genial show of interest. "Quite so," replied Cowperwood, with a friendly gleam in return.

Blount left the door open and went to get his coat and hat. "Who is the man?" he asked, while the officers lingered. "A felly named Gryson. He's been working in the railroad shops what times he wasn't pullin' off something crooked in the p'litical line." "What is he wanted for?" Blount was closing his desk and preparing to leave the office.

They were in the hansom when Bernhardt smashed him, an' this felly had ordered him to get to Sherry's in five minutes if he had to kill some one," explained the officer who had first addressed Hugh in the crowd. "That's a lie," cried Hugh. "I said if he had to kill the old plug. Who is Bernhardt? What the deuce is it all about?"

"I'll let the spalpeens alone if they'll do the same wid me," was his reply, spoken in a low voice, for the two were separated by only a few feet. "You can't have as good luck a second time." "But," persisted Tim, "if I hadn't dropped that felly, he would have tumbled you or mesilf out of the saddle, as he was about to do whin I jumped on him wid both feet."

And now, as if they were torn from the ends of the earth by the irresistible attraction of the seventh circle, they were whirling round the center in a double ring, a ring of young men round a ring of girls; and then, as by some mysterious compulsion, they divided and cast themselves off in rows of two couples, man and girl by man and girl, linked with arms on each other's shoulders, eight rows in all, eight spokes that sprang from the sacred circle ringed with eight, four men and four girls, who were the felly of the wheel, all running, all revolving.