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Updated: June 15, 2025
All through the day they hate, an' ef they ain't got nothin' to do, even ef the weather is fine 'nuff to make an old man laugh, they jest spend that time hatin'. An' ef they happen to wake up at night, do they lay thar an' think what a fine world it is an' what nice people thar are in it?
I ain't a worryin' 'bout but one thing an' that is that a ol' dominicker hen air took ter settin' on the flo' er our coach an' I'm kinder hatin' ter 'sturb her when she feels so nice an' homelike. I reckon I kin lif her out kinder sof' an' maybe she kin hatch jes the same. She ain't got mo'n a day er so ter go."
But I had th' upper hand, 'specially wi' those women hearkenin' and every one hatin' her. . . . What must happen, but forth you steps with a 'Leave this to me. I'll look after Mrs Penhaligon. I'll see she don't come to want' all as bold as a fire-hose. 'I'll clear 'ee out o' this house, which is our house, says you or to that effect.
And a veil oh, sacred spirits! that veil and its contents is now hatin' Carrizoso flats and all the inarticulate earth till fare-ye-well! Wrapped up to the topmast in a white veil, or one of was-white, gray travelling gown, common-sense boots. Gloves ah, yes. And hate hate why, can't you feel the simmerin', boilin' hatred of that States girl just raisin' the temperature of this land of Canaan?
"There's times for truth an' there's times for lying," murmured Harrigan, as he stowed away the bucket and brush and started down for the fireroom, "an' this was one of the times for lyin'. He's sick for the love of her, an' he's hatin' the thought of Harrigan." So he was humming a rollicking tune when he reached the fireroom.
I ain't got ha'f the courage of a gal who does that jest because she's chased by thoughts that worry her an' make her days no better than to set her hatin' them. Strength? Say, when you ken laff an' all the time feel that life ain't ha'f so pleasant as death, why, I'd sure say ther' ain't no greater strength this side of the check-taker's box." Joan could hardly believe her ears as she listened.
"You wer' nigh 'done up. Say, I wus kind o' rattled. I'd shaddered that feller fer an hour or more, an' then lost him. Gee!" And there was an infinite expression of disgust in the exclamation. "Him! Who?" "Ther's on'y one feller around here hatin' you fit to murder, I guess." "You mean Jake?" asked Tresler, in a queer tone. "Sure," was the emphatic reply.
I'm shore hatin' myself these days." "Small wonder. I certainly hate you with all my heart!" At this retort the cowboy dropped his head and did not see Bo flaunt herself out of the room. But he heard the door close, and then slowly came toward Helen. "Cheer up, Las Vegas," said Helen, smiling. "Bo's hot-tempered." "Miss Nell, I'm just like a dog.
He los' his pa an his prop'ty too, but he know betteh dan to go on hatin' fereber. Dey can't spec' me to uphole dem in dis fer it agin de Scripter an' my feelin's. Ole Missus bery 'ligious. She dun fergit wat de words mean she say ebry Sunday, But den, wot de use ob callin' ole Missus to 'count. She neber could see ony her side ob de question.
I'll allow, hatin' Injuns as I do, is no reason you oughtn't to try an' convert 'em. But you're bringin' on a war. These Injuns won't allow this Village of Peace here with its big fields of corn, an' shops an' workin' redskins. It's agin their nature. You're only sacrificin' your Christian Injuns." "What do you mean?" asked Mr. Wells, startled by Wetzel's words. "Enough.
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