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Updated: May 16, 2025
"That's a rather blunt word, I confess; but when you do some fine exploit, you wouldn't mind seeing it printed in full in the papers that the people at home read, would you?" "No-o-o, not exactly; but then I should only want you to tell the truth about it." "Of course; I know that, but there are lots of ways of telling the truth.
'No-o-o, he said, and followed it with a smoke-ring. 'Twenty months at the Cape is my limit. Say, murder ain't the soul-shatterin' event those nature-fakers in the magazines make out. It develops naturally like any other proposition.... Say, 'j'ever play this golf game? It's come up in the States from Maine to California, an' we're prodoocin' all the champions in sight.
Merrill came to her door and asked, "Did you see anything of my butterfly pin when you cleared off my dresser yesterday morning, Mary Jane?" "No-o-o, I didn't," said Mary Jane thoughtfully. "That's funny," replied Mrs. Merrill, "I was sure it was there!
Great was their astonishment at the apparition, and incoherent the observations they dropped as they galloped on. 'It isn't Wash, after all, whispered Fyle into Blossomnose's ear, as they rode through a gate together. 'No-o-o, replied the nose, eyeing Sponge intently. 'What a coat! whispered one. 'Jacket, replied the other. 'Lost his brush, observed a third, winking at Sponge's docked tail.
"I've been busy," replied Ruth evasively. "Will you be too busy to have dinner with us at Vinton's to-morrow night?" persisted Grace. "No-o-o," said Ruth slowly. "At what time?" "Half-past six," returned Grace. "We'll meet you there. I must leave you now to look after Miss Evans. I brought her here to-night."
"No, it was those night-working men, dealers, bartenders, and that crowd, that were the light and profitable eaters. A man that drinks heavy all night don't get up with a thirty-mile appetite in him next day. Well, they're gone; they'll never come back to this man's town." "You were one of the men that wanted the town cleaned up." "No niggers in Ireland, now, Morgan no-o-o niggers in Ireland!"
"Shure yez did, didn't ye?" "No-o-o; neer a bit o' 't. It keemd nigh breakin' us." "Arrah, how?" "We-ell! ye see, when we got roun' to Orleens, we learnt that the boot-trade hed a'most stopped. The allygator leather didn't turn out jest the thing for brogans; an' besides, it got sca'ce by reezun o' the killin' o' them verming.
"No-o-o, don't reckon I do," he admitted, scratching his head and eying me quizzically. I waited. "Must be about Christmas, ain't it?" he guessed at length. It was the eighth of May! Old Mac was a typical prospector. They are all queer, picturesque characters, living in a world of golden dreams, oblivious to everything but the hole they are digging, the gold they are sure to find.
"I don't want to intrude on your private affairs, Peter, not at all not not in the least " "No-o-o," agreed Peter, completely at a loss. The old gentleman rubbed his thin hands together, lifted his eyebrows up and down nervously. "Are are you about to to leave me, Peter?" Peter was greatly surprised at the slightness and simplicity of this question and at the evidence of emotion it carried.
I haven't felt like it for a week now. I I DIDN'T pray last night nor the night before." "Why not, Davy?" asked Anne gently. "You you won't be mad if I tell you?" implored Davy. Anne lifted the little gray-flannelled body on her knee and cuddled his head on her arm. "Do I ever get 'mad' when you tell me things, Davy?" "No-o-o, you never do. But you get sorry, and that's worse.
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