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Updated: May 16, 2025
At length, when the last chest was shut again and locked, and I had exhausted my ingenuity at commendation, and my patience also, he turned to me as a man come out of a trance. "Od's fish, Mr. Carvel," he cried, "you will be starved. I had forgot your state."
At length, when the last chest was shut again and locked, and I had exhausted my ingenuity at commendation, and my patience also, he turned to me as a man come out of a trance. "Od's fish, Mr. Carvel," he cried, "you will be starved. I had forgot your state."
At length, when the last chest was shut again and locked, and I had exhausted my ingenuity at commendation, and my patience also, he turned to me as a man come out of a trance. "Od's fish, Mr. Carvel," he cried, "you will be starved. I had forgot your state."
"Did you ever know George Wrottlesey, of the Suffolk branch?" "No," said his Grace, very innocent. "No! 'Od's whips and spurs, I'll be sworn I never saw a man to beat him for reckless riding. He would take five bars any time, egad, and sit any colt that was ever foaled. The Wrottleseys were poor as weavers then, with the Jews coming down in the wagon from London and hanging round the hall gates.
"I have done a rash thing since I saw you, Richard, and bought a little plantation in Talbot, next to Singleton's. It will be my ruin," he added. "A lawyer has no business with landed ambitions." "A little plantation!" echoed the captain. "'Od's life, he has bought one of his Lordship's own manors as good an estate as there is in the province." "You overdo it, Daniel," said he, reprovingly.
Unable to gain recognition he lets her go, and she is made by a giantess to herd her flocks. Again found by Od, and again refusing to recognise him, she is let go again. But this time she flies to the world of men, and takes service with Od's mother and father. Here, after a trial of her love, she and Od are reconciled.
'Od's bodkins' is a ladylike form, and 'Od's possles' a variety I met in the British Museum. Every gentleman once upon a time aspired to have his own particular grace curse, just as he liked to have his crest, and his bookplate, and his characteristic signature. It fluttered pleasantly into his conversation, as Mr. Whistler's butterfly comes into his pictures a signature and a delight.
It was Colonel Boyce who broke in, Colonel Boyce something flushed and out of breath. "Egad, my lord," he began. Sunderland held up his hand. Colonel Boyce checked and stood staring at his son. Harry began to laugh. "Oh, sir, you're infinitely welcome. It only needed you to complete my happiness." "Od's life, sirrah." Colonel Boyce advanced upon him. "Are you crazy? What damned folly is this?"
I am not of the army," adds my Lord, cuttingly; "I am a seaman, and not supposed to know a stirrup from a snaffle." "'Od's blood!" yelled the captain, "you question my horsemanship, my Lord? Do I understand your Lordship to question my courage?" "After I am thrown!" cries his Grace, very ugly, and fingering the jewels on his hilt.
"And Dorothy?" he said; "you will leave her?" His excitement grew as he listened, until I had to threaten to stop to keep him quiet. But when I had done, he saw nothing but good to come of it. "'Od's life! Richard, lad, come here!" he cried. "Give me your hand. Why, you ass, you have won a thousand times over what you lost. She loves you! Did I not say so?
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