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Henry and Chillingworth both peeped over the bank, and saw them seated beneath this kind of canopy. They were shabby, gipsy-looking men, who might be something else sheep-stealers, or horse-stealers, in fact, anything, even to beggars. "I say, Jack," said one; "it's no bottle to-night." "No; there's nobody about these parts to-night. We are safe, and so are they." "Exactly."

"Thought you wanted to pay me that shilling you owe me, sir." "I don't owe you a shilling." "Oh yes, you do, sir. Don't he, Mr Burr junior?" "No," I said; "and if you ever have the impudence to say so again, I'll tell Bob Hopley to give you another thrashing." The gipsy-looking fellow's dark eyes flashed. "He'd better touch me again," he cried fiercely. "He'd better touch me again.

In about the time he mentioned, a dark, gipsy-looking man looked into the waggon, and spoke to our acquaintance in an unknown language. He replied in the same, and the man disappeared. We continued our route for about a quarter of an hour, when he got out, asked us to follow him, and speaking a few words to the fool, which I did not hear, left him and the boy in the waggon.

A broad margin of grass on either side, tall hedges of hawthorn and hazel, soothed the eye that might be wearied with the glare and whiteness of the road. On one of these grassy margins two children were standing face to face. Hubert recognised his little cousin Enid Vane, but the other a sunburnt, gipsy-looking creature, with unkempt hair and ragged clothes who could she be?

In his steeple-crowned hat was stuck a peacock's feather; and any passenger would have been puzzled to ascertain whether the motley deformed being was a wit or a fool. "Now" thus ran his thoughts "Now do I defy any of the serving-men at Whitehall to recognise their play-fellow, Sir Willmott Burrell's valet, in the gipsy-looking rascal into which I have, of myself, manufactured myself!

She was the very same vivid, gipsy-looking girl who had dashed into the Morrow studio for a moment, and who had seemed to stand, to Joy then, for all the kinds of girl she had wanted to be and couldn't. And now she seemed just a pleasant person like oneself. Joy had caught up to her. It was like an omen. "What is it?" she called dutifully as she ran.

This princess was a gipsy-looking dame, coarsely dressed, about thirty years old, with a gay leer, a jaunty demeanour, and the reputation of being "fast;" she showed little shame-facedness when I saluted her, and received with noisy joy the appropriate present of a new and handsome Tobe.

In about the time he mentioned, a dark, gipsy-looking man looked into the wagon, and spoke to our acquaintance in an unknown language. He replied in the same, and the man disappeared. We continued our route for about a quarter of an hour, when he got out, asked us to follow him, and speaking a few words to the fool, which I did not hear, left him and the boy in the wagon.

She was young and dark and gipsy-looking, and wore large ear-rings and a red cotton handkerchief knotted loosely round her brown throat. She stopped at the sight of Diana and Wendy and the ponies, and seemed to consider a moment. Then she walked boldly up to them, looked keenly in their faces, and evidently chose Diana. "Could you do me a kindness, miss?" she asked.

"You don't want to buy a ferret, do you, Master Mercer?" "Yes," cried the latter eagerly; "I do want a ferret to hunt the rats in the stable. No, I don't," he said sadly; "I haven't got any money." "You not got no money!" said the gipsy-looking fellow. "Oh, I like that, and you a gentleman." "How much is it?" said Mercer.