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"Ha! and a precious way you treated me ONCE," said Eglantine: "don't talk to me, mem, of ONCE. Bury the recollection of once for hever! I thought my 'eart would have broke once, but no: 'earts are made of sterner stuff. I didn't die, as I thought I should; I stood it and I live to see the woman who despised me at my feet."
The hace of spades came up three times in conjugation with the Knave of 'earts!" "Terrific! Very great!" buzzed Verano, with a strong South American Irish brogue a real broth of a brogue. "Wonderful!" said Lady Enid, hastily, endeavouring to pass on. "Wait a minute, darling.
He clashed his white teeth, he rolled his eyes fearfully, and twisted his black features into the wildest expressions of ferocity, crying: "H'Allan will best them for that! Let 'im tear h'out their 'earts by his fingers. So!" He made an eloquent gesture. "Blood! Blood!" "Not so loud. A little pianissimo on the blood," smiled Kirk.
"They've kep' me runnin' about ever since it happened," he added, bestowing a wink of subtle meaning upon the pretty typist who had been taking Merrington's correspondence. "The ladies bless their 'earts always make a fuss over a little one." "When it is legitimate," Merrington gruffly corrected.
When they are too sad when things too 'ard for them and they cannot believe any more that ze good times come again they think of me. 'Voyons, la Gyp, she 'ave a good time always she dance at 'er own funeral! But if they see me 'ere like this they go away and think in their 'earts: 'Grand Dieu, c'est comme ca avec nous tous avec nous tous, and they not laugh with me any more."
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