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I've thought so much about the whole thing, I've read so many of John York's letters and how many times one of the King's! that now I scarcely know which is the bare story, and which the bit's I've dreamed as I've tramped over the plains or sat in the quiet at King's House, spelling out little by little the man's life, from the cues I found in his journal, in the Company's papers, and in that one letter of the King's."
"I'll give you six shilling for it," she said, throwing it down with the air of a person who mentions an ultimatum. "Didn't I tell you now, mum, as it 'ud hurt your feelings to look at my pack? That damaged bit's turned your stomach now; I see it has," said Bob, wrapping the muslin up with the utmost quickness, and apparently about to fasten up his pack.
So be patient, Shashai. We only use it because we must, dear. Now, right, turn!" And with the words she pressed her right knee against the colt, at the same time drawing gently upon the right rein. Shashai turned because he had always done so at the words and the pressure, accepting the bit's superfluous hint like the gentleman he was. "Open the gate, Bud.
I've thought so much about the whole thing, I've read so many of John York's letters and how many times one of the King's! that now I scarcely know which is the bare story, and which the bit's I've dreamed as I've tramped over the plains or sat in the quiet at King's House, spelling out little by little the man's life, from the cues I found in his journal, in the Company's papers, and in that one letter of the King's."
He drew his horse in so sharply that it reared and pawed in amazement and indignation at the bit's coarse insult to thoroughbred instincts for courteous treatment. He knew Arthur was at work in the factory; but he did not expect to see him in workman's dress, with a dinner pail in his hand.
Every bit's like every other bit; and when you mark down one tree, meaning to come back to it, and do come back to it, why it's another tree just like the one you thought it was. I say, Mr Mark, sir, this place aren't 'chanted is it?" "Enchanted! no. Why?" "I d'know, only it's very queer like and puzzling. I can't make it out a bit." "Why, how do you mean?"
"Humph!" grunted the smuggler. "Forgot to tell you about that bit. It's the only place where you can touch the top, and you run agen it. Hurt yerself much?" "No." "Then come on." The rather swift descent was accomplished more easily than Aleck anticipated, and he slid down into a pair of hands. "Now, then, the next bit's diff'rent," said the smuggler.
The wounded trooper had recovered somewhat, and was on his hands and knees, with down-hanging head, in the light of the open door. 'How are you, Casey? asked the detective anxiously. 'Aisy, sor. I'm jist wonderin' if I'm dead or alive, said the trooper in a still small voice, watching the blood-drops falling from his forehead. 'Then the devil a bit's the matter with you, Casey.
Wrench, and a bit's come in from the wreck that I never hoped for. "'Enough to start you? asks she. "'Not quite enough for that, answers he. 'My idea is a small partnership. "'How much is it altogether? says she, 'if it's not an impertinent question. "'Not at all, answers he. 'It tots up to 900 pounds about. "She turns back to her desk and goes on with her writing.
The thing for me to do is to be 'a simple child which lightly draws its breath, and feels its life in every limb. That's a quotation, Cousin Frank. Wordsworth, I think. Sylvia Courtney says it's quite too sweet for words. I haven't read the rest of it, so of course, can't say, but I think that bit's rather rot, though I daresay Lord Torrington will like it all right when I do it for him."
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