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Updated: June 27, 2025
He wants to express himself, not with his tongue, but with his arms and legs with my body I thee worship, as it says in the marriage service. I begin to understand the old plays and pageants. I see why the mutes at a funeral were mute. I see why the mummers were mum. They MEANT something; and Smith means something too. All other jokes have to be noisy like little Nosey Gould's jokes, for instance.
Nosey Browne, who had been watching his movements, holloaed out to Jorrocks to "hold hard," who stood motionless, on the spot from whence he fired, and Browne was speedily alongside of him. "You are on Squire Cheatum's estate," said the man; "and I have authority to take up all poachers and persons found unlawfully trespassing; what's your name?" "He's not on Cheatum's estate," said Browne.
One of the sheriff's companions muttered: "Come on, Bill. I think she's the wife of that nosey new preacher over to Cordova." "All right," said the sheriff. Before he turned away he threatened, "Now if I hear of anything more from you boys, I'll get that warrant, all righty, and you'll land in the calaboose, where you belong."
There were eight-hour intervals in this work, during which Nosey slept or ate his meals or played a mouth-organ in the lee of one of the turret-guns on deck, according to the hour of the day. He slept in a hammock slung in an electric-lit passage far below the water-line; the passage was ten feet wide, and there were six hammocks slung abreast along the entire length of it.
See now the last one I put in is over here: Turns Over. The impact. Leverage, see? He showed them the rising column of disks on the right. Smart idea, Nosey Flynn said, snuffling. So a fellow coming in late can see what turn is on and what turns are over. See? Tom Rochford said. He slid in a disk for himself: and watched it shoot, wobble, ogle, stop: four. Turn Now On.
All agree with him. FATHER FARLEY: He is an episcopalian, an agnostic, an anythingarian seeking to overthrow our holy faith. You bad man! You abominable person! NOSEY FLYNN: Give us a tune, Bloom. One of the old sweet songs. I vowed that I never would leave her, She turned out a cruel deceiver. With my tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom. HOPPY HOLOHAN: Good old Bloom!
At that instant the blow, intended for the back of the head, struck him on the jaw, and he fell forward among the embers. For one brief moment of horror he must have realised that he was being murdered, and then another blow behind the head left him senseless. Nosey dragged the body out of the fireplace into the middle of the floor, intending, while he was doing a man, to do him well.
They had both served their time in the island, and were, moreover, "townies," natives of the same town at home. Nosey began the conversation by saying to his old friend, "I've been a bad boy since I saw you last I done a man in Victoria"; and then he gave the full particulars of his crime, as already related. But the old chum could not believe the narrative, any more than did the squatter.
This gentleman was called indifferently Ensign, Mr., or even Captain Macshane; his intimates occasionally in sport called him Nosey, from the prominence of that feature in his countenance; or Spindleshins, for the very reason which brought on the first Edward a similar nickname. Mr.
Nosey stared at her and then back at the newspaper. "Not me!" he retorted, and took possession of her hand. "That's the King's pardon," said Janie, touching the halfpenny news-sheet with transparent fingers. "'Tain't no use you comin' 'ere no more, 'cos I won't see you. I'll ask 'em at the door not to let you in." Nosey knew that note of indomitable obstinacy in the weak voice.
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