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"Keyser, you lazy vagabone! Why don't you 'tend to milkin' them cows? Not one mossel of supper do you put in your mouth this night unless you do the milkin' right off. You sha'n't touch a crust, or my name's not Emeline Keyser!" Then Keyser leaped to his feet in a perfect frenzy of rage and hurled the chair at Mrs. Keyser; whereupon she seized the poker and came toward him with savage earnestness.
And Jack, looking queerly at me with an inquiring air, said: "My sister's name's Elsie; mine's John Cheriton." "And yours?" Elsie asked, glancing timidly down at me. My heart beat hard. I was face to face with a dilemma. These were friends of Courtenay Ivor's, and I had given myself away to them. I was going to their house, to accept their hospitality and to betray their friend!
"Aye, there's the b'y," replied Sam, pushing me forward affectionately, "and a right good straight up and down youngster you'll find him, Cap'en Billings, with all the makings of a sailor in him, I tell you, sure's my name's Sam Pengelly!" "Well, I'll take your word for that," laughed the other.
But his turquoise finger nails lying against the rusty black of the hat brought him back to his suspicions. He paused and turned. "My name's Wain," he said. "I'm telling you, in case you might 'ear of me again. 'Erbert Wain. I know what yours is, remember, because I seed it on the door."
My second name's Tracy. And I have a pal in England who was christened Cuthbert de la Hay Horace. Fortunately everyone calls him Stinker." The head-waiter began to drift up like a bank of fog, and the Sausage Chappie returned to his professional duties. When he came back, he was beaming again. "Something else I remembered," he said, removing the cover. "I'm married!" "Good Lord!"
"I believe her name's Lebyadkin," a good-natured person volunteered at last in answer to Varvara Petrovna. It was our respectable and respected merchant Andreev, a man in spectacles with a grey beard, wearing Russian dress and holding a high round hat in his hands. "They live in the Filipovs' house in Bogoyavlensky Street." "Lebyadkin? Filipovs' house?
'Have you been here long? I asked. 'I came to-day. 'Why, aren't you the person of whom ... 'Mr. Baburin spoke to the lady here. The same, the same. 'Your friend's name's Baburin, and what's yours? 'I'm Punin. Punin's my name; Punin. He's Baburin and I'm Punin. He set the little cups humming again. 'Listen, listen to the chaffinch.... How it carols!
"But I didn't mean old Thompson. He's been gone for a month, and we've a new man. His name's Macartney, and he's been here two weeks." It was news to me, if it was also an example of the way Dudley Wilbraham ran his mine. But before I could speak Marcia nodded significantly down the passage to the living room door.
One of his close pursuits at that time was the analysis of the Thyroid gland and its functions, its over or under development in British statesmen, dramatic authors and East End immigrants. It is in the spring of 1901. Who are you and what are you doing here?" I'll go quiet. Me name's D.V. Williams..." Norie: "You absurd creature! But you shouldn't play such pranks on these respectable premises.
'As we have heard, so have we seen in the city of the Lord of Hosts. 'That which is Thy memorial unto all generations pledges Thee to the constant reiteration and reproduction, hour by hour, according to our necessity, of all the might, and the miracles, and the mercies of the past. Do Thou it for Thy name's sake.
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