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"You didn't knock him over and take the wallet from him, did you, Sam?" asked Mr. Gates. "Not so bad as that," answered Sam, grinning. "You see, he tripped over a big rock, and came down on his hands and knees. The wallet jumped out of his pocket, but he didn't see it. I picked it up and brought it home." "Didn't he know you were chasing him?" "I guess not. He never looked back."
"Dessay I should, Mas'r Harry," he replied grinning. "Well now, look here, Tom," I continued very seriously, "I am going out to join my uncle, and if I get on, and can see that there is a good chance for you out there, why, I'll send you word, and you can join me." "No, you won't, Mas'r Harry," he said quietly. "But I promise you that I will." "No, you won't, Mas'r Harry."
There were several men on the sidewalks, but he did not see Lawler. Grinning crookedly, Warden crossed the street and made his way to the station building, where a few minutes later he was talking with Simmons. Simmons was visibly excited. There was curiosity in Warden's gaze. "He's wise," said Simmons.
"Did you say Stephano's, or what do you think of one of these places closer at hand? I was told of a little restaurant in Soho the other day, where the cooking is remarkable." "I'm all for Stephano's," Mr. Moss declared, grinning; "and the sooner the better. One of the neatest pieces of business I ever did in my life I brought off there in the old bar.
He had expected her to bow to him, and had not been prepared for the offer of her hand. He inwardly cursed his clumsiness as he changed his gesture. "I saw you in the Park with Gilbert this afternoon, didn't I?" she added. "Yes," he answered, and could say no more. Shyness had fallen on him, and he stood before her, grinning fatuously, and twisting a button on his waistcoat, but unable to speak.
'Is that his name? asked Martin 'That's his name, sir, rejoined Mark. And the negro grinning assent from under a leathern portmanteau, than which his own face was many shades deeper, hobbled downstairs with his portion of their worldly goods; Mark Tapley having already gone before with his share.
In one of the booths a man stretched on a table, flat on his back, is alone on the stage; puppets of almost human size, with horribly grinning masks, spring out of his body; they speak, gesticulate, then fall back like empty rags; with a sudden spring, they start up again, change their costumes, change their faces, tearing about in one continual frenzy.
"I'm sure you haven't," answered Mary sharply. "It comes from Dorminster," said Patrick grinning. "And it begins with S," added Jennie. "It lives in a cage," chimed in Patrick. "And eats nuts," finished Jennie in a squeaky voice of triumph. Their little eager tormenting faces came just above the window sill: Mary felt inclined to box their ears.
I think that was just Saunders trying to make a dandy good job of it. He doesn't like you, anyway witness the way you bawled him out that day you roped ow-w! roped the dog. Baumberger may have wanted him to keep an eye on you My Heavens, man! Do you think you're plucking a goose?" "I wouldn't be surprised," he retorted, grinning a little. "Honest!
"Nay, no fear o' hotting him," growled Bargle, grinning, and, bending to his work, he deftly cut away the black peat till the figure stood before them upright in the bog as if fitted exactly in the face of the section like some brownish-black fossil of a human being.
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