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"Ten-sixty-six to ten-eighty-seven," said Paul the scholar. "They mun be nine hundred years old." "Not quite," said Barney Bill, with an air of scrupulous desire for veracity. "But nearly. Lor' lumme!" he exclaimed, after a pause, "it makes one think, doesn't it?
Sooner or later one jumps upon your back and rides you like the Old Man of the Sea." Cleigh heard the rumble of steam. "Objects of art!" went on Cunningham. "It eats into your vitals to hear that some rival has picked up a Correggio or an ancient Kirman or a bit of Persian plaque. You talk of halters. Lord lumme, how obliquely you look at facts!
"I'd ha' gone through fire and water for it," he declared theatrically. "Lor' lumme!" said Barney Bill again. "I got summat else," said Paul, taking from his pocket his little pack of Sunday-school cards. Barney Bill examined them gravely. "I think you'd better do away with these." "Why?" "They establishes yer identity," said Barney Bill. "What's that?" Barney Bill explained.
When I rejoined the battalion they were just going into the Somme again after a two weeks' rest. They didn't like it a bit. "Gawd lumme," says Wellsie, "'ave we got to fight th' 'ole blinkin' war. Is it right? I awsks yer. Is it?" It was all wrong.
Of course you'd 'ave liked ter tike 'er 'ome yerself, I know, an' leave me to shift for myself. 'Shut up! said Jim, angrily turning upon her. 'I shan't shut up, she answered, raising her voice. 'Nice 'usbind you are. Go' lumme, as good as they mike 'em! Nice thing ter go an' leave yer wife and children for a thing like thet! At your age, too! You oughter be ashimed of yerself.
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