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David had more than half a mind not to answer, but at last he jerked out fiercely, 'Waitin for th' second post, fust; then t' donkey fell down half a mile out o' t' town, an th' things were spilt. There was nobody about, an' I had a job to get 'un up at a'. Reuben nervously thrust his hands far into his coat-pockets. 'Coom wi me, Davy, an I'st mak yor aunt gie yer yor dinner.

They want to be foot loose and heart loose themselves, but always after Ulysses is tired of world wandering, he wants to come back and open the barred doors of home with his own private latch-key, and find Penelope knitting stockings for him with her veil on, waitin' for him.

Hank stuck to his guns. "No, sir. She was on that sorrel of hers, an' Keith was ridin' behind her. I saddled myself and took the horse to the store. They was waitin' there for me, the two young folks an' Juan." "Juan?" "Juan Otero. He brought the note an' rode back with her." The old cattleman felt a clutch of fear at his heart. Juan Otero was one of Dug Doble's men. "That all you know, Hank?"

"Yes; the only kind he had, I cal'late. Git dap, Daniel! What are you waitin' for? Left your bathin' suit to home?" Then, as Daniel stepped rather gingerly into the clear water, he explained that, at a time ranging from three hours before low tide to three hours after, one may reach the outer beach at this point by driving over in an ordinary vehicle.

"I don't want you to say things like that before people." "Like what?" he asked. She did not answer. He went on: "I don't mean to assume anything, God knows. I'm only waitin' and hopin'. I'll go away if you want me to and let you think it over alone." "I wish you would," she said, realizing that this committed her to at least a consideration of his proposal. He held out his hand.

Piddie had already beat it to catch a late train to Jersey, so there was only the two of us that dodged the scrubwomen on our way down to the street. Mr. Robert had a taxi waitin' to take him to the club, and I was debatin' whether I needed a reg'lar dinner or not, when I gets a glimpse of someone leanin' patient against a pillar opposite the main elevator exit.

And in this same instant the stunned assemblage realized that Jeff Poindexter, by nimble maneuvering, had thrust himself between the retreating figure and the exit, and Jeff was crying out: "Not dis way out, Doct' Duvall. Not dis way! The one you married down below Macon is waitin' fur you behin' dis do'!"

"Well," hazarded the old driver, meditatively, "the boys are waitin'. They say you're slow to start anything, Jim; but they look f'r hell t' pay when y' do." To the stranger it seemed to Kate words must be worth their weight in gold, he parted with them so sparingly. "What's this talk 'bout Farrell Kennedy makin' a depity marshal, Jim?" "Mostly talk, Bill. Good night."