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De big Henglish ship she is hit ver' bad, she is all break-up. Efin, dat leetle privator he stan' round on de fighting side of de gentleman-of-war and take de fire by her loneliness. Say, then, wherever dere is troub' mon onc' 'Lias he is there, he stan' outside de troub' an' look on dat is his hobby. You call it hombog? Oh, nannin-gia!
“I haf been rude, Bonker; I haf insulted you! You forgif me?” “With all my heart, if you think it’s needed, but——” “And you vill not go now? You vill stay here?” “What, two Barons at once? My dear chap, we’d merely confuse the butler.” “Ach, you vill joke, you hombog! But you most stay!” “And what about my friend, Dr Escott? No, Baron, it would only mean breakfast and the next train to Clankwood.”
"It's an awesome place," whispered Mr. Gallosh. "I hardly thought it would have been as lonesome-like." There was a tremor in his voice that irritated the Baron. "Pooh!" he answered, "it is jost vun old piece of hombog! I do not believe in soch things myself." "Neither do I, my lord; oh, neither do I; but would you fancy a dram?" "Not for me, I zank you," said his lordship stiffly.
"It is known as the Wraith of the Tulliwuddles. The heir must interview it within a week of coming to the Castle." "Vere most I see him?" "In the armory, at midnight. You bring one friend, one candle, and wear a bonnet with one eagle's feather in it. You enter at eleven and wait for an hour and, by the way, neither of you must speak above a whisper." "Pooh! Jost hombog!" said the Baron valiantly.
I used this privilege freely in Clankwood, and, in a word, since I couldn’t tell the truth if I wanted to, I quenched the desire.” “You hombog!” said the Baron, not without a note of admiration. “I was, and I gloried in it. Baron, if you ever want to know how ample a thing life can be, become a certified lunatic! You are quite irresponsible for your debts, your crimes, and, not least, your words.
De big Henglish ship she is hit ver' bad, she is all break-up. Efin, dat leetle privator he stan' round on de fighting side of de gentleman-of-war and take de fire by her loneliness. Say, then, wherever dere is troub' mon onc' 'Lias he is there, he stan' outside de troub' an' look on dat is his hobby. You call it hombog? Oh, nannin-gia!
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