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Her lover's voice was scornful of the imagined dangers, as a recruit may be of the battle terrors before he has been under fire. He slipped his arm about her and drew her over to him. "Honey," he said, "ye needn't fret about thet. Readin' an' writin' can't make no difference fer a woman. Hit's mighty important fer a man, but you're a gal."
You're up to cheating me out of my money. You know very well that Squire Hall is down on me, hard and bitter writin' his reports to Philadelphia and doing all he can to stir up everybody agin me and to bring the bluejackets down on me. I see through your tricks as clear as glass, but ye shatn't trick me.
"Of course we've had 'em in this country," said Hiram, opening another book. "Caught 'em by the dozen in Salem! Cotton Mather made a business of it. You don't think a man like Cotton Mather is lettin' himself be fooled on the witch question, do you? Here's the book he wrote. A man that's as pious as Cotton Mather ain't makin' up lies and writin' 'em down, and puttin' himself on record."
Louis, awhile back, who was green on the river, but he let us kind of p'int out what he'd need fo' a skift trip down this away. Real friendly feller, kind of city-like, an' sort of out'n the country, too. 'Lowed he was a writin' feller, fer magazines an' books an' histries an' them kind of things. Lawsy!
Why, there's my Betsy Ann; she ken go a visitin' more 'n half the time, and her husband never said boo agin her house-work; an' I've known lots o' women what could embroider, an' play the piana, an' make heaps o' calls, an' attind balls an' sich till enymost mornin', an' they'd no more think o' wastin' their time in writin' a book than cuttin' their heads off!
"Then I vote to stow it and pipe down with the gabbin' with the writin' chap," said Buckrow savagely. "It's time we got clear of here and took to the boats by dark, Thirkle. I'm not for cruising over this blasted island in the dark, and I don't fancy ye and the writin' chap gettin' so thick all of a sudden.
Oscard if I reach that Platter, God willin', as the sayin' is." "All right, Joseph." Still there was something left to say. Joseph paused and scratched the back of his neck pensively with one finger. "Will you be writin' to Mr. Oscard, sir, for me to take?" "Yes."
"Writin' you, of all people!" he said. "Writin' you and beggin' you not to let Mary-'Gusta marry his son: and for what? To save the boy from somethin' bad? No! For all he knew, Mary-'Gusta might be what she is, the best and finest girl on earth. What he was beggin' for was himself that his son shouldn't know what HE was, that's all. No, Zoeth, I can't pity him much.
Show it to him, lieutenant." I grins and hands over the paper. "Hah!" grunts Myers. "But Otto Krumpheimer don't sign his name like that. Never." "How do you know?" says I. "Why," says Myers, scrapin' his foot nervous, "I I just know, that's all. I've seen his writin', plenty times." "Hear that, sergeant," says I. "Just jot that down, will you?" "Night court," says the sergeant.
"There will be a villain," she returned. His eyes flashed queerly. "Would you mind tellin' me who you have picked out for your villain?" he continued. "I don't mind," she said. "It is Leviatt." He suddenly grinned broadly and held out his right hand to her. "Shake, ma'am," he said. "I reckon if I was writin' a book Leviatt would be the villain."
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