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"Faix, an' I for one, although I'm his father amn't I, Rosha?" he added, good-humoredly addressing his wife, who had just come into the kitchen from above stairs. "Throth," said the wife, who never replied with good humor unless when addressed as Mrs. Burke, "you're ill off for something to speak about. How are you, Peety? an' how is your little girl?"
Didn't they go into my heart at the time, an' how could I forget them? But I can't bear, somehow, to look back at what we wor then, bekase I feel my heart brakin', acushla!" "Well, Vara, look at me. Amn't I a poor wasted crathur now, in comparishment to what I was thin?" "God he sees the change that's in you, darlin'! But sure 'twasn't your fau't, or mine either, Dominick, avilish!"
They say I'm very ill, don't they? But now that I've come back I'll soon get well. I'm always well at Montmartre, amn't I, Victorine?" "Nous ne sommes pas installes encore," Marie said, referring to the scarcity of furniture, and to the clock and candelabra which stood on the floor.
Fethertonge, that to a man like me, that's layin' out and expendin' money every day upon Adaharra farm, and my father the same way upon Carriglass I say, to a man like me, to be layin' out his money, when you know yourself that if the present landlord should refuse to carry his father's dying words into effect or, as you said this minute yourself, sir, if some enemy should turn you against me, amn't I and my father and the whole family liable to be put out, notwithstanding all the improvements we've made, and the money we've spent in makin' them?"
"Amn't I the terrible ould ruffian to go upsettin' ye that way!" he groaned remorsefully. "There now, Miss Elleney, don't mind me. I'm not meself to-day. I'm a regular ould gomeril. Sure it had to come sooner or later. It's meself knew very well I'd have to stan' by and see ye carried off some fine day by whoever was lucky enough to get ye.
Amn't I your girl? Cissy's your girl. White thy fambles, red thy gan And thy quarrons dainty is. VOICES: Police! DISTANT VOICES: Dublin's burning! Dublin's burning! On fire, on fire! Dense clouds roll past. Heavy Gatling guns boom. Pandemonium. Troops deploy. Gallop of hoofs. Artillery. Hoarse commands. Bells clang. Backers shout. Drunkards bawl. Whores screech. Foghorns hoot. Cries of valour.
Oh, wurrah sthrew! wurrah sthrew! what'll become of us! Dick, agra, says she, crying, 'Dick, acushla machree, don't you hear, me spaiking to you! don't you hear your poor broken-hearted mother spaking to you? Oh! wurrah! wurrah! amn't I the heart-brokenest crathur that's alive this day, to see the likes of such doings! but I knew it would come to this!
I amn't my own man, now, do you hear that?" "Sure you don't mane to say that you're married?"
Faix, I suppose, if you go an this way much longer, that you'll be thinkin' of another farm, in regard that we have some guineas together. Pettier, did you ever think of it, abouchal?" "To be sure, I did, you beauty; an' amn't I in fifty notions to take Harry Neal's land, that jist lies alongside of our own."
Have you found the fountain of youth or or what?" Callandar threw an affectionate arm over the other man's shoulders. "I am young, amn't I! Trouble is, I didn't know it." He ruffled his hair at the side so that the grey showed plainly. "Terrible thing when one loses the realisation of youth! But I've had my lesson. I'll never be old again, never!"
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