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Updated: June 14, 2025
A moment later Tom was standing before two well-dressed, prosperous-looking business men, who smiled pleasantly at him. "Mr. Thomas Swift?" interrogated one, the elder, as he held out his hand. "That's my name," answered Tom, pleasantly. "I'm Peton Gale, and this gentleman is Boland Ware," went on the man who had taken Tom's hand.
He may want something, and you, high up, looking down, will say, 'What devilry is here! and decline. He will then turn to your chief-justice or provost-marshal-general, or a deputy of the provost-marshal, and they will say that Darius Boland shall have what he wants, because it is the will of the will you represent."
Llyn and Sheila were; first because he chose not to do so, and also because Darius Boland, at one time or another, would of his own accord tell what Mrs. Llyn and Sheila were doing.
Boland dreamily "in fact, my prudence is so very such, indeed one may almost say so extremely such not to mention the pertinent and trenchant question so well formulated by the little Peterkin " "Why don't you marry?" "Ha!" said Francis Charles. "Whachamean 'Ha'?" "I mean what the poet meant when he spoke so feelingly of the " eager boys Who might have tasted girl's love and been stung."
I will tell him so." "But, mistress, he should not be told that this news comes from me." "No, he should not, Boland. I can tempt him to speak of it, I think. He hates Mr. Calhoun, and will not need much prompting." Sheila had changed since she saw Dyck Calhoun last.
"In what way, Boland?" "Why, your honour, it is the custom for a man and his whole family to go on a visit to a neighbour, perhaps twenty or forty miles away, bring their servants maybe a dozen or more and sit down on their neighbour's hearthstone.
In the upper back room, earnest young secretaries worked in swift silence. One of them, a curly-haired girl with her mouth o-ed about a cigarette, puffed unceasingly. At last Harry Boland, secretary of Sinn Fein, entered. "The council decides tonight," he admitted. His eyes were bright and faraway like one whose mind is on a coming crisis.
That may well be; but it's not the way that will bring understanding." "I think it's the truth, sir, for Darius Boland spoke naught of the mother indeed, he said only what would make me think the girl came with her own ends in view. Faith, I'm sure the mother did not know." "She will know now. Your Darius Boland will tell her." "By St. Peter, it doesn't matter who tells her, sir.
They must be run down by bloodhounds. It's the only way." "Bloodhounds there are no bloodhounds here!" said Darius Boland. "And if there were, wouldn't pious England make a fuss?" Dyck Calhoun was about to speak sharply, but he caught sarcasm in Darius Boland's face, and he said: "I have the bloodhounds. They're outside the harbour now, and I intend to use them."
"Modest enough he is to be a good republican, eh, Boland?" "Since your honour puts it so, it must stand. I'll not dispute it, me being what I am and employed by whom I am." Darius Boland had a gift of saying the right thing in the right way, and he had said it now. The governor was not so dense as to put this man against him, for women were curious folk.
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