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They worked like magic. The last one came yesterday morning, and it was a topper! It was all about how a chappie who was nervous should proceed. Technical stuff, you know, about holding her hand and telling her you're lonely and being sincere and straightforward and letting your heart dictate the rest.
The ends of it hung down over his coat, and the general effect of smock, comforter, gaitered shanks, boots tied up in straw, long nose, and shining spectacles, was that of some huge and ungainly bird, hopped from out a fairy-tale or a nightmare. "Be Maister Chappie here likewise?" inquired Billy. "I'm waitin'; an' I've got a fowling-piece, tu." "That's gude then.
I tell you what, we'll go and have a snap at the pheasants, and try a few drop kicks over the Martyr's oak. What do you say?" "I can't shoot awfully well," said Jill apologetically. "I'd sooner, if you don't mind, Tom, walk about on the roof, or help you let the water out of the big pond." "Raffles, old chappie, more toast a lot more toast for Miss Jill. I'll have a wing of something myself.
Then he deals two to a chappie on his right, and all the punters on the right, back that sportsman. And he deals two cards to himself. The game is to get as near nine as possible, ten, and court cards, not counting at all. If the Banker has eight or nine, he does not offer cards; if he has less, he gives the two players, if they ask for them, one card each, and takes one himself if he chooses.
"Yep," assented the other, rattling through the back pages of his notes. "Got Plato down cold somewhere, oh, here. He never caught on to the subjective, any more than the other Greek bucks. Go on to the next chappie." "If you gentlemen have mastered the the Grreek bucks," observed the instructor, with sleek intonation, "we "
Montague noticed that these names always ended in "ie," there was Robbie and Freddie and Auggie and Clarrie and Bertie and Chappie; if their names could not be made to end properly, they had nicknames instead.
"Measles?" "Anonymous letter. That's what I was trying to say. It's a most extraordinary thing, and I can't understand even now where the deuce they came from, but just about then I started to get a whole bunch of anonymous letters from some chappie unknown who didn't sign his name." "What you mean is that the letters were anonymous," said George. "Absolutely.
They shoot jolly well, old chappie. I, too, can shoot. I can hit a bottle six times out of seven at a hundred yards, but when there is a battle then I do not shoot so well. The other man, who understood a little English, grinned at this, and muttered something in Dutch. 'What does he say? I inquired. 'He says "He too," replied Spaarwater. 'Besides, we cannot see your soldiers.
I must go and speak to that chappie." Since John Norton had come to live in London, his idea had been to put his theory of life, which he had defined in his aphorism, "Let the world be my monastery," into active practice.
Brewster bubbled inarticulately. Mr. Gossett dried himself sketchily with a napkin. The Sausage Chappie snorted. The girl had risen to her feet and was staring wildly. "John!" she cried. Even at this moment of crisis the Sausage Chappie was able to look relieved. "So it is!" he said. "And I thought it was Lancelot!" "I thought you were dead!" "I'm not!" said the Sausage Chappie. Mr.
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