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"That's father's step. And his shirt's not ready!" She hurried to her irons, and tried to make up for lost time. John Barton came in. Such a haggard and wildly anxious-looking man, Will thought he had never seen. He looked at Will, but spoke no word of greeting or welcome. "I'm come to bid you good-bye," said the sailor, and would in his sociable friendly humour have gone on speaking.
The Fans received my offer, starting at two dollars ahead of what M. Jacot said would be enough, with utter scorn, and every dramatic gesture of dissent; one man, pretending to catch Gray Shirt's words in his hands, flings them to the ground and stamps them under his feet. I affected an easy take-it-or-leave-it-manner, and looked on.
"When I withdrew my hand it was covered with blood. It was too dark to see the color, but I knew from the sticky feeling of it just what it was. "'My God! man, I cried; 'you are hurt, your shirt's all bloody. Come back here until I can see what's the matter. "'No, "Doc" no! I tell you. It's stopped bleeding now. It would be tough for you if they pinched me here.
"Oh, Duane, your shirt's all bloody!" she faltered, pointing with trembling fingers. With her words Duane became aware of two things the hand he instinctively placed to his breast still held his gun, and he had sustained a terrible wound. Duane had been shot through the breast far enough down to give him grave apprehension of his life.
At last the fact that we were to be received being settled, Gray Shirt's friend led us out of the guard house the crowd flinching back as I came through it to his own house on the right-hand side of the street of huts. It was a very different dwelling to Gray Shirt's residence at Arevooma. I was as high as its roof ridge and had to stoop low to get through the door-hole.
"It's a great mercy as it is that Aunt Agatha didn't appear and weep all over the camp about him. I'm sorry I mended the shirt. Not but that I was fortunate to find something that would make him go, but a shirt's such a childish thing to fuss about. And, anyway, I preferred him to leave in a friendly, conventional sort of way!" There are times, alas, when even fish are perverse!
"The shirt's tail I mean, of course, and a little apron," said Miss Wealthy, joining in the mirth; "that's where the spots all happen to be, which is a comfort in case a piece should have to be set in." "There comes Lenwilla Ellawea; for some more light'ning, I suppose, as I see she carries a teacup in her hand," whispered Lottie, glancing from the window, as a step sounded upon the gravel walk.
Gordon, with a patent self-consciousness, took off his coat, revealing a flimsy white silk shirt striped like a child's stick of candy in vivid green. The whistle arose with renewed force; gnarled and blackened fingers gingerly felt the shirt's texture. "Man dear! The lily of Lebanon. Arrayed like a regular prostitute ... silk shirt tails."
"House at the end where the old cock in a blue shirt's smoking a pipe is that it?" "Ah! up two flights of stairs. But she can't see you, nor yet hear you, to speak of." "Who's the old cock?" "This little boy's uncle. He b'longs to the Fancy. 'Eavyweight he was, wunst upon a time." And Dave Wardle, who had joined the colloquy, gave confirmatory evidence: "He's moy Uncle Moses, he is.
He seems not to like it in a way, but he can't get on without me. Where I go he goes. I have a correct, trustworthy eye, mamma. One sees a peasant selling a shirt in the market place. 'Stay, that shirt's stolen. And really it turns out it is so: the shirt was a stolen one." "What do you tell from?" asked Varvara. "Not from anything, I have just an eye for it.
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