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"Eh, Men, dad was h-only de poli-i-idenez. Wad 'e said?" "E said I din knowed 'im 'tall." "An' you," exclaimed Aurora, "it is nod pozzyble dad you " "I tole 'im I know 'im bette'n 'e know annyt'in' 'boud id!" The speaker dropped her face into her mother's lap. "Ha, ha!" laughed Aurora, "an' wad of dad? I would say dad, me, fo' time' a day.
She returned her hand to Frowenfeld's arm and they moved on. "The one who spoke to you, or you know the one who got near enough to apologize is not the one whose horse struck you!" "I din know. But oo dad odder one? I saw h-only 'is back, bud I thing it is de sem "
Give yourself to your people to those, I mean, who groan, or should groan, under the degraded lot which is theirs and yours in common." The quadroon shook his head, and after a moment's silence, answered: "Ah cannod be one Toussaint l'Ouverture. Ah cannod trah to be. Hiv I trah, I h-only s'all soogceed to be one Bras-Coupé." "You entirely misunderstand me," said Frowenfeld in quick response.
You di'n' write him: 'Wire answer'? You muz' do that! I'll pay it myseff!" "I thought I'd wait one more day. He may have other manuscripts to consider." "Mr. Chezter, that manuscrip' is not in a prize contess; 'tis only with itseff! You di'n' say that?" "I implied it as gracefully as I could." "Ah! graze' the h-only way to write those fellow, tha'z with the big stick! 'Wire h-answer!"
Me, the h-only thing I don' ligue those epaulette'. So soon ev'ybody see that on me, 'tis 'Lieut'nan'! in thiz place, an' 'Lieut'nan'! in that place. My de'seh, you'd thing I'm a majo'-gen'l, in fact. Well, of co'se, I don' ligue that." "And so you're a lieutenant?" "Third! Of the Chasseurs-á-Pied! Coon he'p 't, in fact; the fellehs elected me. Goin' at Pensacola tomaw. Dr.
H-only for 'is money we would 'ave catch' dat quadroon gen'leman an' put some tar and fedder. Grandissime Frères! Agricole don' spik to my cousin Honoré no mo'. But I t'ink dass wrong. W'at you t'ink, Doctah?" That evening, at candle-light, Raoul got the right arm of his slender, laughing wife about his neck; but Doctor Keene tarried all night in suburb St. Jean.
"Hev'ryt'in', iv you pliz!" exclaimed Clotilde, with most uncalled-for warmth. "An' you crah bic-ause 'e is nod guiltie?" "Ah! foolish!" "Ah, non, my chile, I know fo' wad you cryne: 't is h-only de sighd of de blood." "Oh, sighd of blood!" Clotilde let a little nervous laugh escape through her dejection.
"Not the De Brahmin Mandarin who was Honoré's manager?" "Yes. Honoré was n' able to kip 'im no long-er. Honoré is n' so rich lak befo'." "And Mandarin is really in charge here?" "Oh, yes. Profess-or Frowenfel' all de time at de ole corner, w'ere 'e continue to keep 'is private room and h-use de ole shop fo' ware'ouse. 'E h-only come yeh w'en Mandarin cann' git 'long widout 'im."
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