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You mighd doss all those crysdals indo the fire with imbunidy; but bowder them and mix indo a baste with a zerdain acid, and whad you now hold in your hand would develop exblosive bower enough to demolish this building," was the quiet reply.
"Will you fight if he agrees to meet you?" "Yaw." "All right. There can't be any backing out now, understand that. You are in for a fight, if Gallup doesn't apologize." "Yaw; but you mighd influence him to abologize uf you couldt, ain'd id?" "It would not be proper to bring any undue influence to bear on him. I shall carry your challenge to him immediately."
But she expected too much. Nothing so terrorizes a blushing girl as a blushing man. And then though they did sometimes digress Clotilde and her partner met to talk "business" in a purely literal sense. Aurora, after a time, had taken her money into her own keeping. "You mighd gid robb' ag'in, you know, 'Sieur Frowenfel'," she said.
And they went away, Madame Delphine's spirit grown so exaltedly bold that she said as they went, though a violent blush followed her words: "Miché Vignevielle, I thing Père Jerome mighd be ab'e to tell you someboddie." Madame Delphine found her house neither burned nor rifled. "Ah! ma, piti sans popa! Ah I my little fatherless one!"
But when he mentioned Clotilde's fortune as subject to the same contingency, Aurora replied: "Ah! bud Clotilde mighd gid robb'!" But for all the exuberance of Aurora's spirits, there was a cloud in her sky. Indeed, we know it is only when clouds are in the sky that we get the rosiest tints; and so it was with Aurora.
And they went away, Madame Delphine's spirit grown so exaltedly bold that she said as they went, though a violent blush followed her words: "Miché Vignevielle, I thing Père Jerome mighd be ab'e to tell you someboddie." Madame Delphine found her house neither burned nor rifled. "Ah! ma piti sans popa! Ah! my little fatherless one!"
"Bud I don'd like dot peesness uf sdanding oop to be shod ad mit a pullet oudt uf a bistol. Somepody mighd ged hurt, ain'd id?" "Oh, there's no danger that you'll get hurt any more than to have a bullet through your head." "Vot vos dot?" gurgled Hans. "A pullet drough mein headt. Shimminy Gristmas! Uf dot don'd vas pad enough, vot you vant? Oxcuse me!"
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