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Updated: June 22, 2025
He cut off Peter Russet's gag, and Peter Russet called 'im 'arf a score o' names without taking breath. "And when Ginger's finished I'll 'ave a go at you," he ses. "Cut off these lines." "At once, d'ye hear?" ses Ginger. "Oh, you wait till I get my 'ands on you." Sam didn't answer 'em; he shut up 'is knife with a click and then 'e sat at the foot o' the bed on Ginger's feet and looked at 'em.
Or, if you're particular, of whom?" "Well... you, to be absolutely accurate." "Me?" Sally stared. "But I've never given you a photograph of myself." Ginger's face was a study in scarlet and purple. "You didn't exactly give it to me," he mumbled. "When I say give, I mean..." "Good gracious!" Sudden enlightenment came upon Sally. "That photograph we were hunting for when I first came here!
Some people object to his swearing habits but he can't be broken of them. I've tried . . . other people have tried. Some folks have prejudices against parrots. Silly, ain't it? I like them myself. Ginger's a lot of company to me. Nothing would induce me to give that bird up . . . nothing in the world, miss." Mr.
He kept 'old o' Sam's arm with one hand and the lodger's neck with the other, and marched 'em off to his lodgings. "He shut the door when 'e got in, and arter Peter 'ad lit the candle they took hold o' Sam and went through 'im, and arter trying to find pockets where he 'adn't got any, they took off 'is belt and found Ginger's watch, seventeen pounds five shillings, and a few coppers.
Cooks trailed black silk dresses adorned with wide collars, and fastened with gold brooches containing portraits of their late husbands; and the fine shirt fronts set off with rich pearls, the lavender-gloved hands, the delicate faces, expressive of ease and leisure, made Ginger's two friends young Mr. Preston and young Mr. Northcote noticeable among this menial, work-a-day crowd.
They 'ad took a room together as usual, and for the fust two or three days they was like brothers. That couldn't last, o' course, and Sam was so annoyed one evening at Ginger's suspiciousness by biting a 'arf-dollar Sam owed 'im and finding it was a bad 'un, that 'e went off to spend the evening all alone by himself.
"No," agreed Ginger. "You never know when folks is oppressed. An' anyway, wot's one afternoon away from school to make such a fuss about?" "Seems to me from wot father said," went on William gloomily, "you'll have to wait a jolly long time for that drink of ginger-ale." An expression of dejection came over Ginger's face. "An' you wasn't even ever squire," he said. Then he brightened.
Perhaps even then he had realised the futility of it all . . . For a few seconds Derek Vane looked at him gravely, while close by two excited men from different units argued raucously as to which battalion had brought the aeroplane down. "I tell yer I saw the ruddy bullet hit the perisher right in the middle," cried one claimant. "It were old Ginger's gun, I tell yer.
"About that, you know. What you said." "Yes?" said Sally, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "You said..." Again Ginger's vocabulary failed him. "You said you loved me." "Yes," said Sally simply. Another odd sound floated over the wire, and there was a moment of silence before Ginger found himself able to resume. "I... I... Well, we can talk about that when we meet.
Sam and Peter was delighted, and they talked about it as if it was a pantermime, and old Sam said that when he was a young man he'd ha' fought six Bill Lumms afore he'd ha' given a gal up. He brushed Ginger's clothes for 'im with 'is own hands on Sunday afternoon, and, when Ginger started, 'im and Peter follered some distance behind to see fair play.
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