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I am glad you think like me, though I expect yours is the humanitarian view and mine's the practical one. This touches my pocket, you see. Well, anyway, you won't be so keen now on defending the Unionists. 'I think they've got as much right to fight for their principles as we have for ours, but I don't think they've the right to torture horses, she rejoined.
"Better hear the truth, and be done with it. She doesn't like you and she doesn't want to, either. Why can't you take your answer like a man?" "What's your conception of a man?" asked Bryce. "That! and a good one," exclaimed Ransford. "May satisfy you but not me," said Bryce. "Mine's different. My conception of a man is of a being who's got some perseverance.
Besides, you must wait till Polly is through, and I will pass it to her first." "I don't want any more bread, Mammy dear," said Phronsie, gravely. "You must eat it," said Mrs. Pepper, firmly. "See, Phronsie, mine's going fast," cried Polly, with another bite that rapidly diminished her slice. "Oh, you can't think how soon it will be gone, if you begin to eat."
And another strange phenomenon: if Laurencine had been self-conscious, George also was self-conscious; and he avoided Lois's eyes! Why? He wondered whether the circumstances in which he had come to Paris and entered the Ingram home were as simple and ordinary as they superficially appeared. "Laurencine," said her mother, "give your father back his serviette!" "Mine's fallen."
We're as good as anything there is and have always been thought so. You might do anything you like." "Well, I shall never like to marry when it comes to that a Frenchwoman." "Thank you, my dear" and Mme. de Brecourt tossed her head. "No sister of mine's really French," returned the young man. "No brother of mine's really mad.
What shall I put on it? What's mine's papa's, and what's papa's is his own," argued Willie. "I know!" he said to himself at last. The boys couldn't imagine what he meant to do when they saw him draw first a D and then an O on the frame. But when they saw a C and a T follow, they thought what a conceited little prig Willie was!
But 'ow about the Tour of the Waterin' Places of England, Grubb? Singing! Young men of family doing it for a lark? You ain't got a bad voice, you know, and mine's all right. I never see a chap singing on the beach yet that I couldn't 'ave sung into a cocked hat. And we both know how to put on the toff a bit. Eh? Well, that's my ideer. Me and you, Grubb, with a refined song and a breakdown.
"Are you rejoiced that mine's my own again, that I'm back in my place, that I'm Tristram of Blent, that it belongs to me? That I take it by my own incontestable right and not of your hand, by your bounty and your charity? Are you so rejoiced at that that you can forgive me anything, forgive the man you love anything? Yes, you do love me You're welcome to that, if you think it makes it any better.
Let us ha' this, right understood. Mine's a grievous case, an' I want if yo will be so good t' know the law that helps me. 'Now, I tell you what! said Mr. Bounderby, putting his hands in his pockets. 'There is such a law. Stephen, subsiding into his quiet manner, and never wandering in his attention, gave a nod. 'But it's not for you at all. It costs money. It costs a mint of money.
"What's your name, mate?" asked my new friend, as he was sipping his glass of grog. I told him. "Mine's Richard Sharpe; but I'm mostly called Dicky Sharpe," he answered. "Some of my messmates give me all sorts of names; but I don't mind them. As long as they don't cob me, it's all very well. I'm a happy fellow, and ready for all the ups and downs of life.
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