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"Bless you, my precious!" said Mother Cockleshell, accepting the offer with avidity, and talking more in the Romany manner. "I allers did say as you were what I said before you were, and that's golden, my Gorgious one. Ahime!" she blew a wreath of blue smoke from her withered lips, "that's food to me, my dearie, and heat to my old bones." Lambert nodded.
"You'd better help me, brother, if you don't want that Gorgious romi of yours to pad the hoof with the rye." The blood rushed to Pine's dark cheeks. "What's that?" "No harm to my rye and I tell you, brother. Don't use the knife." "That I will not do, if a wedding-ring from him to you will do as well." "It will do, brother," said Chaldea calmly.
You say that for a Romany chi to do what is unseemly with a gorgio is quite out of the question, yet only the other day I heard you singing a song in which a Romany chi confesses herself to be cambri by a grand gorgious gentleman." "A sad let down," said Ursula. "Well," said I, "sad or not, there's the song that speaks of the thing, which you give me to understand is not."
The body was placed not in a coffin but on a bier, and carried not to a churchyard but to a deep dell close by; and there it was buried beneath a rock, dressed just as I have told you; and this was done by the bidding of Leonora, who had heard her bebee say that she wished to be buried, not in gorgious fashion, but like a Roman woman of the old blood, the kosko puro rati, brother.
Chaldea misunderstood his silence, while he was thinking in this way, and smiled mockingly with a toss of her head. "Ah, the rye is afraid. His sin has come home to him," she sneered. "Hai, you are at my feet now, my Gorgious one." "I think not," said Lambert coolly, and rose to put on his cap. "Come with me, Chaldea. We go to The Manor." "And what would I do in the boro rye's ken, my precious?"
"There are ways and ways, and when the hour arrives, the sun rises to scatter the darkness," said Gentilla mystically. "Let the child win for the moment, for my turn comes." "Then you know something?" "What I know mustn't be said till the hour strikes. But content yourself, my Gorgious lady, with knowing that the child will make no trouble." "She has parted with the letter?"
‘Wasn’t it, child? Where was I? At the fan and sacrament; with a heavy heart I put seven score miles between us, came back to the hairy ones, and found them over-given to gorgious companions; said I, “Foolish manners is catching; all this comes of that there gorgio.” Answers the child Leonora, “Take comfort, bebee; I hate the gorgios as much as you do.”’
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