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"But it was no m-murder," he pleaded, "and I'm g-going away, Clo ah! won't you let me k-kiss you good-by just once, Clo?" "I'd rather you wouldn't," she whispered. "Y-your hand, then only your hand, Clo." "I'd rather you didn't!"
You told me to do the b-b-best I c-could for him, judge, so I've jest given him y-your b-b-bay gelding, an' told him to light out for healthier c-climes, my p-p-professional opinion being he'd be hanged quicker'n h-h-hades if he dallied here. B-by this time my client's 'bout fifteen mile out yonder somewheres. That was the b-b-best I could do for him, may it p-p-please the court."
As if from habit, however, he reached forth a trembling hand and deftly replaced a loose hairpin, then tucked in a stray lock which Felicite's vehemence had disarranged. "Y-your hat's on one side, my dear," he told her. She tossed her head and drew away, saying, "Your touch contaminates me monster!"
And, by the way, m' child, what in the devil's name brings yer on the street alone at this hour, say, tell me that?" and he assumed a most judicial attitude and manner. I replied, "I am going home from my work, sir." "Y-your w-what?" he growled. "My work, sir, at the theatre." "Good Lord!" he groaned, "and t-that crawlin' r-reptile couldn't let you pass, you poor little soul, you!"
She flashed her tempting glance up into the man's face, and Brown stamped his feet nervously, endeavoring to appear stern. "C-c-could n't h-hardly do it, m-m-miss. It 's t-too blame dirty d-d-down below fer y-your sort. B-b-besides, my p-pardner ain't yere, an' he m-m-might not l-like it." "You haf de pardner? Who vas de pardner?" "H-h-his name's H-H-Hicks."
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