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Updated: May 27, 2025
Then another paper dug up from somewhere a sort of animated corpse that said was a 'undred and two, and attributed the unfortunate fact to 'is always 'aving 'ad 'is food as 'ot as 'e could swallow it. A bit of sense did begin to dawn upon 'im then, but too late in the day, I take it. 'E'd played about with 'imself too long.
An' 'e'd been up to try an' get one for 'imself, for the bottle off the washstand was lyin' on the floor as if he'd dropped it out of 'is 'and 'e'd got up to get a drink for 'imself," she repeated impressively, "an' 'im dyin', ma'am, and there wasn't a drop o' water there. I knowed it I knowed it the moment I see that bottle on the floor.
Pearce, wot was filling 'er glass at the time, spilt a lot of beer all over the tablecloth, and she was so cross about it that she sat like a stone statue for pretty near ten minutes. By the time supper was finished people was passing things to each other in whispers, and when a bit o' cheese went the wrong way with Joe Morgan he nearly suffocated 'imself for fear of making a noise.
Smith, looking round; "he ses Arthur fought like a madman to prevent 'imself from being saved." "It was nothing, really," said the mate, in an almost inaudible voice, as he met Miss Smith's admiring gaze. "Listen to 'im," said the delighted Mr. Smith; "all brave men are like that. That's wot's made us Englishmen wot we are."
Smith; "wouldn't ha' done you any good. Besides, I did just wot the cap'n told me." "When's he coming back?" inquired the steward. Mr. Smith shook his head. "Couldn't say," he returned. "He couldn't say 'imself. Between you an' me, I expect 'e's gone up to have a reg'lar fair spree." "Why did you tell me last night he was up-stairs?" inquired the other. "Cap'n's orders," repeated Mr.
She said "No" at fust, of course, but arter Ginger 'ad pointed out that Joe was at work all day and couldn't take 'er 'imself, and that 'e was Joe's uncle's best pal, she began to think better of it. "Why not?" ses her mother. "Joe wouldn't mind. He wouldn't be so silly as to be jealous o' Mr. Ginger Dick." "Of course not," ses the gal. "There's nothing to be jealous of."
"For about a minute or two, so Israel told me," the old man went on, "the moray stayed quiet at the bottom of the boat. Then 'e put up 'is 'ead, with its gleamin', wicked teeth, and looked first at Israel and then at the New Yorker. 'E next sort of shook 'imself all along the spine, to make sure 'e was all there, and began to squirm 'is way toward the stern."
My 'usband was Colonel Crofton's dog-breeding assistant, and 'e's about to start for 'imself in the same line, if 'e can get the money that's been promised 'im. If 'e can't get that money well, 'e'll have to go into service again, and 'e thought that Major Radmore, who's a kind, generous gentleman, might 'elp 'im to a job." Radmore felt amused, interested, and, yes, a little touched.
Well, 'e was out 'ere larnin' the dooties one tremendous stormy night, an' the poor fellow was in a mortial fright for fear the lantern would be blowed right hoff the top o' the stone column, and 'imself along with it.
"My opinion is," he ses, "that 'e bolted on one of the wharves and 'id 'imself. He disappeared like magic. Was that little gate o' yours open?" "I was on the wharf," I ses, very cold. "You might ha' been on the wharf and yet not 'ave seen anybody come on," he ses, nodding. "Wot d'ye mean?" I ses, very sharp. "Nothing," he ses. "Nothing." "Are you trying to take my character away?"
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