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Updated: December 20, 2024
"Dear man," she said, "full well ye know it's not mine to sell. Then you're to let me have the ten pound?" "If I were to employ a wheedler," said Mr. Traquair, "I'd have no choice 'twixt you and Satan. Mind, I make no promises. Ten pound is a prodeegious sum o' money, when ye hay'na got it."
A rare laugh we'll have when the pretender produces his bit shirtie in the court, and says, 'Look, your honor, upon my patent o' nobilitee." "Mind this," said The McTavish, "I'll make no contests, nor have none made. Only," she smiled faintly, "I hay'na told him who he rightly is. He claims cousinship.
"McTavish," she said, "the other day, when I felt that I had to get here before you, I promised my driver ten pounds if he beat your car," "Yes," said McTavish, "I guessed what was up, and told my man to go slower. It wasn't the psychological moment for either of us to break our necks, was it?" "No; but I promised the man ten pound, McTavish and I hay'na got it."
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