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Updated: May 23, 2025
In what country is it that the bridegroom breaks a glass in the marriage ceremonial? Oh, yes, I remember. Fossy told me. Among the Jews. There's a lot in the profession. Not that it's such a marrying profession. And to think I might have been a regular bride!
"Just back this very day from India " "And of course the first thing after a good dinner is the good old Friv " put in the Major. "Thank you, Major," said Fossy. "That's handsome of you. And now I'll leave you to Miss O'Neill." "That's handsomer still," said the Colonel. And the three men guffawed. Eileen felt sick. The Major began to talk of the music-halls of India; the Colonel chimed in.
Wait till Fossy sees you." "Will he ask me to stick it out?" "Oh, Lord, I wish I had your repartee. But I'm thinking Nelly O'Neill doesn't it give you away a bit?" "Keeps me a bit, too. I shouldn't like to lose myself altogether gain reputation for another woman."
"Well, we had no sooner turned to go, than the French people sot up a cheer that made all ring again; and they sung out, "La Fossy Your," "La Fossy Your," and shouted it agin and agin ever so loud. "'What's that? sais Steve. "Well, I didn't know, for I never heerd the word afore; but it don't do to say you don't know, it lowers you in the eyes of other folks.
Her nature needed to wallow in warm admiration. She got plenty. When, fifteen months later, she agreed to pay Fossy a hundred pounds for modifying her contract so as to enable her to appear at other Halls, she said with a smile, "You deserve it. You are the only man at the Half-and-Half who hasn't made love to me." Fossy grinned. "If I had known that, I should have demanded a larger compensation."
She was reading a warning to artistes that any improper songs or lines would lead to their instant dismissal, and regretting more than ever her incompetence for this innocent profession, when she heard the bass chorister's big breathing behind her. "Bravo! You knocked him all of a heap." "Rubbish! Don't try to cheer me." "You!" Jolly Jack Jenkins opened his eyes. "You taken in by Fossy!
"So Steve turns and takes off his hat, and makes them a low bow, and they larfs wus than ever, and calls out again, "La Fossy Your," "La Fossy Your." He was kinder ryled, was the Elder. His honey had begun to farment, and smell vinegery. 'May be, next Christmas, sais he, 'you won't larf so loud, when you find the mare is dead.
Even if admitted to the boards, she could make her failure in secure obscurity. It would simply be another girlish escapade, and she was ripe for mischief after her long sobriety. "But even your Mr. Fossy mustn't know my real name or address," she stipulated. "Who shall I say you are?" "Nelly O'Neill." "Ripping. Flows from the tongue like music." "Then it's rippling you mean." "What a tongue!
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