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Updated: May 27, 2025
There was a laugh all round the table; O'Grady's absolute confidence in anything in which he was interested was known to them all. His horse had been notoriously the most worthless animal in the regiment, but although continually last in the hunting field, O'Grady's opinion of her speed was never shaken.
"Them? Whom?" "The directors." "You've seen them?" "I attended a meeting of the board, as I suppose I might as well tell you," said Little O'Grady grandly. "You did, eh?" returned Dill, balanced between reprobation of Little O'Grady's push and admiration for his nerve. "Yep. I spoke a good word for myself. And one for the others Gowan and Giles and you and Stalinski and "
So on the occasions when Captain O'Grady violated the sanctity of the fodder-room by stowing there some of his infantry equipment, the Vet would angrily demand: "Mac! What's that blanky stuff doing there? Is that some more of O'Grady's blanky rubbish?" "Yes. He said you said he " "I don't care a blank what he said. Heave his blanky stuff out of here. O'Grady and his blanky stuff can go to hell.
Look here, you put it into a wooden box and nail it up securely, and write on it 'O'Grady's arm, and hand it over to him solemnly, and tell him that I have a fancy for burying the contents myself, which will be true enough, though it is me throat I mean to bury it in." Knowing that it was best they should be left in quiet, Terence soon left them and returned to the regiment.
"Poison!" gasped Dinny Johnny, falling down at full length on the grass, "the wood's poisoned!" When they went back to look for "Matchbox" she was still lying in the bohireen. Her bridle had vanished, and so had the pursuing countrymen. Mary O'Grady's saddle was broken, and could never be used again, and no more could "Matchbox," because she had broken her neck.
They passed a dozen yards abreast of them. O'Grady's great arms and shoulders were glistening with perspiration. His face was purplish. In his eyes and on his lips was the old taunting sneer. He was panting like a wind-broken animal. As Jan passed he uttered no word.
MacDowell has limned her musically in a manner worthy of comparison with the sumptuous pen-portrait of her in Standish O'Grady's "Cuculain": "a woman of wondrous beauty, bright gold her hair, eyes piercing and splendid, tongue full of sweet sounds, her countenance like the colour of snow blended with crimson."
He's a high up gentleman surely, and if you speak to him he'll use his influence with the Lord-Lieutenant." "Be quiet, Doyle," said Dr. O'Grady. "Go off and get the bouquet as quick as you can and give it to Mrs. Gregg." Lord Alfred Blakeney, who had gasped with astonishment at the end of Dr. O'Grady's last speech to him, recovered his dignity with an effort.
Half an hour had witnessed a sham fight on the part of O'Grady's people with the bailiffs and their followers, who made the seizure they intended, and locked up their prize in an old barn to which it had been conveyed, until some engagement on the part of the heir should liberate it; while the aforesaid heir, as soon as the shadows of evening had shrouded the river in obscurity, conveyed the remains, which the myrmidons of the law fancied they possessed, to its quiet and lonely resting-place.
Besides, I'm not so sure that every bit of it is perfectly proper." So the Grindstone made another revolution and took off the tip of poor Prochnow's nose. He came into Little O'Grady's dirty and disorderly place, and O'Grady, even before he could scramble forward through his ruck of dusty casts and beplastered scantlings, saw that the blow had fallen.
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