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Updated: May 6, 2025
Nobel Prize winner Joseph Stiglitz, Thomas Hellman, and Kevin Murdock concluded in their 1998 paper "Liberalization, Moral Hazard in Banking, and Prudential Regulation": "We find that using capital requirements in an economy with freely determined deposit rates yields ... inefficient outcomes. With deposit insurance, freely determined deposit rates undermine prudent bank behavior.
He turned northeast and crossed the firmer sand towards the Pigeonhouse. Qui vous a mis dans cette fichue position? c'est le pigeon, Joseph. Patrice, home on furlough, lapped warm milk with me in the bar MacMahon. Son of the wild goose, Kevin Egan of Paris. My father's a bird, he lapped the sweet lait chaud with pink young tongue, plump bunny's face. Lap, lapin. He hopes to win in the gros lots.
In better humor he flung himself down beneath a tree to wait for the ferryman and went peacefully to sleep. St. Kevin had once fallen asleep at a window with his arms outstretched in prayer; a swallow had made a nest in his hand and the saint had waited for the swallow's young to hatch. Kenny, with the legend dimly adrift in his brain, dreamed that he too must wait until a ferryman grew up.
It is only just, as well as natural, that it should be so. If the second cause of the crime did not find an excuse for the defendant, I don't know where he or she would look for an advocate. St. Kevin need not have troubled himself: there were plenty of people ready to push poor Kathleen down. I think it is a pity they canonized him.
"The letters, sahib," said the post orderly, blocking up the doorway of the bungalow. Kevin Dermot put down his book as the speaker, a Punjaubi Mohammedan in white undress, slipped off his loose native shoes and entered the room barefoot, as is the custom in India.
It was the face of an artist, an idealist, intensified, idealised, by illness, by suffering, by excitement, and I wondered if the vision which Kevin Hooban had of playing the fideóg by the river, when it ran clear in April, were a vision of his heaven or his earth. We left the house. Patch Keetly was taking the loop from a trace as he harnessed the mare in the yellow light of a stable lantern.
"Only that your husband is starting for England on sick leave and that I'm to return at once. What's the matter? I hope it's not serious." "Mr. Macdonald wires that Kevin must go at once to England for an operation. He says I'm not to worry, as there is no immediate danger. But of course I can't help being alarmed. It's all so sudden. I didn't know that Kevin was ill. Mr.
"Oh, you are heading for the house where Kevin Hooban is lying sick?" "Yes." "The priest is going to read over him?" "Yes." "And maybe they are expecting him?" "Yes." "We heard it said he is very low, a strangeness coming over him." "Is the house far?" "No, not too far when you are once a-past the demesne wall, with the ivy upon it. Keep on the straight road.
Her husband volunteered to show him the way to the Mess and introduce him to Major Hunt. As Wargrave shook hands with Mrs. Dermot, she said: "I wanted to ask you to dinner this evening; but Kevin thought you might prefer to spend your first night with your brother officers. But we shall expect you to-morrow, when they are coming, too."
Mitchel at Hobart Town, his friends William Smith O'Brien, John Martin, Thomas F. Meagher, Kevin Izod O'Doherty, Terence Bellew MacManus, and Patrick O'Donoghue, had reached the same place, there to serve out the various terms of transportation to which they had been sentenced. All except Mr.
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