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At last he said: "Dose are nod my boods." The tone was not one of anger, nor of sorrow, not even of contempt, but there was in it something quiet that froze the blood. He put his hand down and pressed a finger on the place where the left boot, endeavouring to be fashionable, was not quite comfortable. "Id 'urds you dere,", he said. "Dose big virms 'ave no self-respect. Drash!"
At last he said: "Dose are nod my boods." The tone was not one of anger, nor of sorrow, not even of contempt, but there was in it something quiet that froze the blood. He put his hand down and pressed a finger on the place where the left boot, endeavoring to be fashionable, was not quite comfortable. "Id 'urds you dere," he said. "Dose big virms 'ave no self- respect. Drash!"
"He said that I'd been seen a-talking to his daughter, Jule Anderson." "Vell, you nebber said no hoorm doo Shule, tid you? If I dought you said vot you zhoodn't zay doo Shule, I vood shust drash you on der shpot! Tid you gwarl mit Shule, already?" "Quarrel with Jule! She's the last person in the world I'd think of quarreling with. She's as good as " "Oh! you pe in lieb mit Shule! You vool, you!
At last he said: "Dose are nod my boods." The tone was not one of anger, nor of sorrow, not even of contempt, but there was in it something quiet that froze the blood. He put his hand down and pressed a finger on the place where the left boot, endeavouring to be fashionable, was not quite comfortable. "Id 'urds you dere,", he said. "Dose big virms 'ave no self-respect. Drash!"
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