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There were numerous cuts and bruises on his face from which blood was oozing, and his clothing was torn and dirty, as if it had been dragged through the mud. "Loaver! Loaver!" he shouted, still shaking his clenched fist at the entrance. "Vait a liddle, yet! I eats dern alife!" "I wish you would!" cried Jack. "Give me a bite while you are at it," Sandy cut in.
"He works for me, an' he wants to sleep all day an' sit up all the bloomin' night. He's an Owl all but the wise look." "You loaver!" cried Hans, well knowing that Hamblin would not be permitted to attack him again. "You starf mine pelly! You put bugs to sleep in mine ped! How should the nights get me sleep when the ped is one processions of pugs?"
In Rommany it can be correctly applied only to a letter or a piece of paper, which is written on, though English Gipsies call all books by this name, and often speak of a letter as a Chinamangri. LOUR or LOWR, and LOAVER, are all vulgar terms for money, and combine two Gipsy words, the one lovo or lovey, and the other loure, to steal. The reason for the combination or confusion is obvious.
"You murdered him, and I'll have your life." He lifted his pistol and fired, but the bullet went whistling through the air instead of finding the mark intended for it. Hans, seeing the peril Ned was in, had stepped forward and landed a knock-out blow on the Captain's jaw. "You loaver!" he shouted, standing over him.
Then they heard a voice they knew: "Donner! I make your face preak! Come py mine punch of fives. Oh, you loaver!" "Hans!" cried Jack. "How the Old Harry did he get here?" "He'll soon be able to tell you himself," Frank said, "if he keeps on coming." Indeed, the German's voice came nearer every instant, nearer and more emphatic.
"How dare you; you are no gentleman!" "No, I am a loaver, Blanca, not von cold Nordthern zhentleman, who haf so leedle heart it can be hush, and zo dthin, poor blood it nefer rush fire at a voman's touch. Blanca, I haf been still for days, vaiting for dthis hour. I loaf you, darling, till all my life is nodthing but von longing I loaf you till I haf no conscience, no religion but my loaf.
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