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"I'll tell 'im that when 'e comes back!" "Do you always read post-cards, Lizzie?" he asked. "Of course I do," she answered. "So does everybody. You 'urry on now, an' I'll 'ave your dinner up before you finish dryin' your fyce!" She contemplated him for a moment. "You got nice 'air," she said, "only it wants brushin'. An' cuttin', too!" Then she disappeared down the stairs leading to the basement.
Perhaps you'll explain how there's no harm breakin' into unoccupied 'ouses?" "Gorblimy, 'ow was I to know? 'Ere's a toff 'ands me sixpence fer hopenin' 'is cab door to-dye, an', sezee, 'My man, 'e sez, 'yer've got a 'onest fyce. W'y don'cher work? sezee.
"Meess . . . er, er . . ." he said, addressing the Englishwoman, "Meess Fyce, je voo pree . . . ? Well, what am I to say to her? How am I to tell you so that you can understand? I say . . . over there! Go away over there! Do you hear?" Miss Fyce enveloped Gryabov in disdain, and uttered a nasal sound. "What? Don't you understand? Go away from here, I tell you! I must undress, you devil's doll!
I'd perish you, I would, if I was 'im! Off the fyce o' the earth, an' charnce bein' 'ung for it! Take away that gun, you silly little imitation sojer d' you 'eer?" The weapon was extremely weighty. W. Keyse's arms ached frightfully. Perspiration trickled into his eyes from under the tilted smasher. He felt damp and small, and desperately at a loss.
But the 'abit left me when I grew old enough to tyke me whisky strite and have hair on me fyce." I did not "explain away" the ghost in the crosstrees either to Ally Bazan or to the other two Black Crows. Furthermore, I do not now refer to the Island of Paa in the hearing of the trio.
I down't 'old with sin myself, mind you, but I down't believe in cuttin' off your nose to spite someone else's fyce. You go an' wash your 'ands, an' I'll 'ave your dinner up in 'alf a jiff!..." John stared at her. "I don't know what you mean by living in sin," he said. "Well, you are innercent," she replied. "'Aven't you never 'eard of no one livin' together without bein' married?"
They had been sitting there for some minutes, divided by the iron bars necessary to the morals of the neighbourhood, while Mr. Lavender cudgelled his brains for an easy and natural method of approach, before Blink supplied the necessary avenue by taking her stand before a soldier and looking up into his eye. "Lord!" said the one thus accosted, "what a fyce! Look at her moustache!
Now persons don't have to ask me is he your father. It's written in his fyce. It's this country life as has done it. Noisy, I calls it. No rest." Lewis felt penitent. He suggested to Leighton a day together, a tramp and a picnic, but Leighton shook his head. "I don't want to have to talk," he said bluntly. "Dad," said Lewis, "let's go away."
Wading knee deep in the water and drawing his huge figure up to its full height, he gave a wink and said: "This isn't England, you see!" Miss Fyce coolly put on another worm, gave a yawn, and dropped the hook in. Otsov turned away, Gryabov released his hook, ducked into the water and, spluttering, waded out. Two minutes later he was sitting on the sand and angling as before.
"Garn, Frawgs!" he sneered, to the resentful Frenchman. "Yer 'yn't fit ter sye ther time o' dye ter 'er; yer knows yer 'yn't." "Wat? To ze daughtaire of a flute!" the Second-Violin replied. "W'y " "Garn!" said the drummer. "Sye, yer myke me sick! You, with yer black-'aired fyce an' paytent boots!
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