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In football it's no exaggeration to say he was more often on the ground than the ball itself, and was invariably of more service to the other side than to his own. In fact, the possession of him got to be quite a joke. "Who's going to win?" asks some one, before a match begins. "Which side is Billy Bungle on?" is the counter question. "Oh, he's on our side."
The plain truth is, I now invite you to come over here and live with us. Do you read that? US. For I am we are married. Yes; a fact. And who do you think we are? There's me to begin with, and who's the other party, the "Co.," should you fancy? Well, don't guess. I'll tell you. Mary Deane. You remember how I used to sing: "I'm sitting on the stile, Ma-ree,"
At least, there's one who's hideous, and I'm sorry to say he's the only one you can have." "'Twas ever thus, from childhood's hour." "But the landlord says there are dozens of mules at Martigny." "A mere mirage." "No, he has telephoned. But you'll look at the one here, I suppose, if only as a matter of form? I think he's outside now."
"Let him alone, Dan! I'll tell you why later. There's Jordan and Kilduff. That one by the door is Rhinehart." They ran from one to the other, greeted by groans and deep curses. "Who's that beneath the window?" "Too small for Silent. It's Purvis, and he's dead!" "Bart got him!" "No! It was fear that killed him. Look at his face!" "Bart, go out to Satan!" The wolf trotted from the room.
He left the tavern. The two men looked at each other earnestly as the door closed upon him. "A dangerous man," said Dennis Wayman. "Bah!" muttered Black Milsom, savagely; "who's afraid of a hunchback's bluster? I dare say he wanted the handling of the money himself."
Has the hired girl kicked for another afternoon a week, and who's the latest married man to run away with another woman? That may not be wigwam gossip, but it's all we know in our set; it's all the small-talk I have." The Indian solemnly accepted the preferred hand, studying it curiously as his own brown one shook to Torrance's welcome. "Me spik English," he grunted. Torrance grinned foolishly.
Jocelyn Thew regarded his questioner with an air of pained surprise. "It's Gospel," he assured them all, "but you don't need to take my word. You go right along up and enquire at the Beverley house to-night, and you'll find that she is packing. Made up her mind just an hour ago. I'm about the only one in the know." "Who's the man, anyway?" one of the little group asked.
A lamp burned low on the toilet table, she went to it, turned up the wick, and as she did so a slight noise on the veranda without startled her. The windows reached to the floor and were wide open. "Who's there?" she asked. "I," was answered, in a rough, surly tone, and Arthur stepped in. "Is it you?" she asked in surprise and indignation.
Yah! Well, any of you going to fetch them back?" "I'm not," said Burney, shrugging his shoulders. And he turned half-away as if to go and lean against the fence, but really to hide his face as he muttered to himself, "Oh, shouldn't I like to see you licked again!" "Well, who's going?" cried Slegge haughtily. "No one?
"A hound is as fair as a gun, and hounds shall be used here in Jamaica. The governor can't refuse their landing now. The people would kill him if he did. It was I proposed it all." "Look, sir who's that?" asked Michael, as they saw a figure riding under the palms not far away. It was very early morning, and the light was dim yet, but there was sufficient to make even far sight easy.
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