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Updated: May 20, 2025
"The rest of us," Monty went on, "will know better what to do when we know what the Turk intends, but I expect to send all of you from time to time to wherever the fighting is thickest. Kagig, of course, will please himself, and my orders are subject to his approval." "I'll go, then," said Gloria. "Good-by!"
"We can't do it." "Of course we can't; and we can't quit." "Not without being wiped out," he agreed. "Exactly. I wonder what it'll feel like, having a Turco bayonet in one's stomach." "Rupert," said Monty suddenly, "we've had a bad jar, and we're getting morbid. Cheer up. Muddly old Britain will get us out of this mess. And now we're jolly well going to make all we can out of this Christmas.
Alf Russell hesitated a moment, and then climbed up on the pile of washings and after clearing his throat, sang "When This Cruel War is Over" in his best style, and was applauded from the top of the rock and below. "Now, give us your speech. But no politics," the rebels shouted. Monty Scruggs stepped up on the mound and recited "Bingen on the Rhine" in his best school-exhibition style.
In a minute she was beside Will, talking to him, and from over the top of the rise we could hear Fred shouting sarcastic remonstrance. "She is bad!" Gregor announced in English. It seemed to be all the English he knew. "Are you her father?" Monty asked, and Gregor answered in very slipshod German: "She is the daughter of the devil. She shall be soundly thrashed! The chalana!* And he a Gorgio!"
I chartered this boat for four months with the privilege of another month I can see no reason to prevent us from prolonging the trip." Monty's manner was full of self-assurance as he continued: "You people are so in the habit of protesting against every suggestion I make that you can't help doing it now." "But, Monty," said Mrs. Dan, "what if your guests would rather go home."
The motor-launch beat away from the Rangoon. Monty, standing in the stern, lit a pipe, and stared over the match-flame at the empty troopship. Jimmy Doon, sitting in the bows, surveyed the hill-locked harbour, and said to me: "Well, there's one comfort: we shan't be killed on Gallipoli." "Why not?" "Because we shall certainly die at Mudros."
The knowledge of his father's death was nothing new; and here was all the mystery explained, and the suspicion which had clouded his name completely removed. "Why, Monty, darling, splendid Monty! Don't! Don't! You ought to be the gladdest boy who ever lived. See. Look at your grandmother. She isn't saying anything, and there is sorrow in her face, but there's wonderful pride in it, too.
Yes, I enjoyed my flying trip to the West, in a way, though father only came as far as Chicago with me, but I expect him to-morrow." Then the crowd surged along, peering, staring, and feeling, so that it would have blocked the way conspicuously if Bradford had lingered longer. As he vanished, Monty Bell sauntered up, and, entering the booth, took his place by Sylvia.
If the thing turns out big, Trent, you can spare a small share. There's a letter here! It's to my lawyers. They'll tell you all about her." Trent held out his hands for the letter. "All right," he said, with sullen ungraciousness. "I'll promise something. I won't say how much! We'll see." "Trent, you'll keep your word," Monty begged. "I'd like her to know that I thought of her."
Porter, And on her daughter, A regular snorter; She has washed her neck in dirty water, She didn't oughter, The dirty cat." And Monty, hearing them, whispered one of his delightfully out-of-place remarks: "Aren't they wonderful, Rupert? I could hug them all, but I wish they'd come to Mass." The moon, moreover, showed us comforting things. There was the old Redbreast lying off Cape Helles.
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