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He was asleep, she said, as, standing on tiptoe, she scanned his face. He was asleep, and in her own dialect Muggins talked to herself about him as he lay there so still. "Nice Mas'r Hugh pretty Mas'r Hugh!" and Mug's little black hand was laid caressingly on the face she admired so much.
"I say, Diggy," exclaimed Jack Vance, addressing the new boy by the friendly abbreviation, which seemed by mutual consent to have been bestowed upon him in recognition of his daring exploit "I say, Diggy, you're in my bedroom: there's you, and me, and Mugford. Mug's an awful chump, but he's a good-natured old duffer, and you and I'll do the fighting." "What do you mean?"
Dis mug's vally to Sir Thomas, dat's him. But he ain't no vally. He's come to see dat no one don't get busy wit de jools. Say, what do you t'ink of dem jools, Mr. Chames?" "Finest I ever saw." "Yes, dat's right. De limit, ain't dey? Ain't youse really " "No, Spike, I am not, thank you very much for inquiring.
When it came to the mug's turn to be made into spoons, it half broke poor little Gluck's heart; but the brothers only laughed at him, tossed the mug into the melting pot, and staggered out to the alehouse, leaving him, as usual, to pour the gold into bars when it was all ready. When they were gone, Gluck took a farewell look at his old friend in the melting pot.
"Den she give me dis mug's address, an' two bones for me fare, an' tole me ter come down here, which I did, an' I wish ter I hadn't; see?" "That's a pretty good story, Harrigan," said Nick. "Patsy, get a policeman to stay here with Gaspard." Patsy brought the blue-coat in a few minutes. "Now, we'll go up to Fifty-seventh street," said Nick.
As Paul had now attained his sixteenth year, and was a fine, handsome lad, the dame thought he would make an excellent representative of the Mug's mistress; and that, for her protege, a ball at Bill's house would be no bad commencement of "Life in London." Accordingly, she intimated to the Bachelor a wish to that effect; and Paul received the following invitation from Bill: "Mr.
Half of the mug's contents inside him and he dared to raise his eyes to the man opposite him. Yes, this was no common crewman, nor was he drunk as he had pretended for the Vorm-man. Now he watched the milling crowd with a kind of detachment, though Vye was sure he was aware of every move he himself made. Vye finished the liquid.
"It's a mug's game," people say. Even betting men talk like this. There is a street called Mug's Row in a north of England town: it is so called because the houses in it were built by a bookmaker. Whether it was the bookmaker or his victims that gave the street its name I do not know. To call a bookmaker a mug would seem to most people an abuse of language.
"Dooce take me Tom!" exclaimed this individual, in breathless reproach. "Your infernal mug's hard as iron!" "Craggy, my lord!" answered the other hoarsely. "Cragg by name an' Craggy by natur', my lord!" Thither my uncle George led me, his spurs jingling, whereupon the spectators turned to salute him and stare at me, among whom I recognised my uncle Jervas.
A raw beefsteak poultice He fancied the fog-horn was a little louder; he would need to keep more to the left or he would find himself hitting Mug's Landing, west of Island Park, or wind up away over at the Point somewhere. He resumed his paddling.