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'Liza! She turned round and started with surprise very well imitated. 'I didn't see you was there! she said. 'Why did yer pretend not ter notice me, as yer went past eh, Liza? 'Why, I didn't see yer. 'Garn! But you ain't shirty with me? 'Wot 'ave I got to be shirty abaht? He tried to take her hand, but she drew it away quickly. She was getting used to the movement.
The Second Nurse, composed in all her movements, bent over the medicine table. "Garn!" retorted Tilda. "It's easy seen you wasn' brought up along with animals. Look at the eyes of her." "Well?" The Second Nurse, after a long look at the patient, turned to Tilda again. "You mind my tellin' you about Black Sultan?" "Of course I do. He was the one with the bearing rein and the white martingale.
"Let 'em stop at 'ome and mind their own 'usbands yah!" "Garn! who paid for your bonnet?" shouted another, until a third girl pulled her back, panting, "If you say that any more I'll scrag yer!" For this third girl had spent a fortnight in the Mile End Road house, getting fed and strengthened before an operation. But here was the cab!
He forgot his turquoise finger nails, and stared, open-mouthed. "Ain't going to die?" he said. "What do yer mean?" "Simply that you aren't going to die," was Sarakoff's soft answer. "Yer mean, not die of the Blue Disease?" "Not die at all." "Garn! Not die at all." He looked at me. "What's he mean, Mister?" He looked almost surprised with himself at catching the drift of Sarakoff's sentence.
"Come along into the daguerreyan car, Mis' Stillman," invited the landlady. "You never see the inside o' one, did you?" "Laws! is that wher' you're garn to? I can't stop but a minute. Hit looks mighty fine. The boys said this feller was drivin' into town last night when meetin' broke. Who's garn to have their picter took? You, Jane?" "Me?" replied the neighbor. "Laws! no: I ain't rich."
"Sorjint?" he broke in mincingly "c'n I fall out an' tork t' me sister? garn, Reddy! wipe orf yer chin! . . . though if I did 'appen t' 'ave a sister she might s'y th' sime fing abaht me, now, as she might s'y abaht you to a lydy-fren' o' 'er's, p'raps. . . ." "Say what?" demanded George incautiously.
'Garn! Yer knows I likes you as well as anybody. 'Yer likes so many people, Liza, he said, flushing. 'What d'yer mean? said Liza indignantly, but very red; she was afraid he knew now, and it was from him especially she would have been so glad to hide it. 'Nothin', he answered. 'One doesn't say things like thet without any meanin', unless one's a blimed fool.
If you asked any of the children of the East End if they had seen Madame Tussaud's or the Zoo, they would grin, and say, 'Garn! and if you told them about these things they might say, 'Ye're kiddin', ye're, which is their way of saying they don't believe you, and think you are telling stories. In the streets where these children live everything is dirty and nasty.
That which had been in her mouth was spent for ticket, mostly, but a little still was in her hand. "W'ere'd yer think Hi'd 'ave it?" she asked scornfully. "Hin me roight hear?" Then she showed him what was in her fist. "Garn aboard," the man said, grinning.
"Garn!" the scorn of W. Keyse was something awful "you an' your love " She wrenched the cotton lace away from her thin throat, and tore some of her hair out in the strenuous hysteria of her class, and screamed at him: "Me an' my love!... Go on!... Frow it in me face, an' 'ave no pity! Me an' my love!... Sneer at it, take an' spit on it ain't it yours all the syme? Oh, for Gawd's syke forgive me!"
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