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"By gad, you have got the blue glasses on to-night, and no mistake," Carr mused. "That's unmitigated pessimism, Sophie. What you need is a vacation. Let somebody else run this women's win-the-war show for awhile, and you take a rest. That's nerves." "I can't. There is too much to do," Sophie said shortly. "I don't want to. If I sat down and folded my hands these days I'd go crazy." Carr grunted.
"She'll not escape me this time. Gad, she's a beaut! But as wild as a hawk." "An' so ye think ye'll corner her, eh?" There was a peculiar note in Samson's voice which Reynolds was quick to detect, but which Curly missed. "Just you wait an' see," the latter reminded. "That old cuss thinks he's got a regular Gibraltar behind those hills with his lousy Indians. But I'll show him a thing or two."
"Not one woman in a thousand would have done it," was the comment of Major Fairfax when he heard of the drive in the Park. "Gad! most of 'em would have cut Carmen dead and put Jack in Coventry, and then there would have been the devil to pay. It takes quality, though; she's such a woman as Jack's mother. If there were not one of them now and then society would deliquesce."
We've got to crush, to kill this War God of theirs, and make war impossible for the future. Forgive me, sir, for talking like this; I didn't mean to. I've been a long time in getting to this point, but now it has become a kind of passion with me, because I feel it to be the Call of God." "By gad, Nancarrow, but you've touched the spot this time, and you've put it well too!
Oh, it's a humiliating thing, sir, poverty to a man of my habits; and it's made me shed tears, sir tears; and that d d valet of mine curse him, I wish he was hanged! has had the confounded impudence to threaten to tell my lady: as if the things in my own house weren't my own, to sell or to keep, or to fling out of window if I chose by gad! the confounded scoundrel."
I should like to hear this great English preacher, I confess. What say you?" "They'll go, you may be sure, Sir," said Angus, before we could answer. "Trust a lassie to gad about if she has the chance. Mind you take all the pocket-handkerchiefs you have with you. They say 'tis dreadful the way this man gars you greet.
He got it, and dropped in his dressing-room, dead as a herring." "How could she have been so cruel, knowing his condition? She might, with woman's tact, have rejected him less abruptly." "Yes; but you're all wrong. By Jove! she ACCEPTED him! was willing to marry him!" "What?" "Yes. Don't you see? It was joy that killed him. Gad, we never thought of THAT! Queer, ain't it?
Shall we say twenty thou, Wingate? A peeress and a saint! Gad, they aren't to be picked up every day!" "What on earth is he trying to sell?" Flossie demanded. Dredlinton turned with an evil grin. He had at least the courage of a drunken man, for he took no account of Wingate towering over him. "Don't you know?" he cried out. "Doesn't every one understand?" "Stop!" Wingate ordered.
"So am I: but this is a mighty poor place for it. They may be here any moment with their lanterns: we had better cut across while everything's dark. Gad!" he said, throwing his head back as if to stare upwards, "I must have dropped twenty feet. Wonder if I've broken anything?" He stood up, and appeared to be feeling his limbs carefully. "Sound as a bell!" he announced.
You didn't know Willoughby, eh? Gad, he was second to a man at Gib in '47. He brought his man on the ground, but the opponents didn't turn up. Two minutes after time Willoughby wanted his man to leave. 'Teach 'em punctuality, he said. 'Can't be done, said his man. 'Must be done, said Willoughby. 'Out of the question, said the man, and wouldn't budge.
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