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Updated: May 24, 2025
I haven't got your snake's patience. Let me have what I've got to have, an' suffer it, an' make an' end of it." "You're in a hurry for a dish that won't be pleasant eating, I assure you." "It's just an' right I tell 'e; an' I knaw it is, though all these years cover it. Your paart 's differ'nt. I lay you 'm in a worse hell than me, even now." "A moralist!
"'Tis straange us met that poor, croony antic at sich a moment," mused Uncle Thomas; "the words of en jag sore 'pon a body's mind, comin' arter what's in our thots like." "Maybe 'tis paart o' the queerness o' things as us should fall 'pon en now," answered Joan. Then, through a stormy gloaming, they returned in sadness to the high lands of Drift.
He don't mean never to look 'pon my faace agin, nor me 'pon his. The cottage edn' no home for me no more." "Joan, gal alive! what talk be this?" "'Tis gospel. I'm a damned wummon, 'cordin' to my faither as was." "God A'mighty! You paart a Chirgwin as comed, o' wan side, from her as loved the Lard so dear, an', 'pon t'other, from him as feared un so much. Never, Joan!"
"No fay; 't is the man's paart to look arter his wife, if you ax me. I be a plain bachelor as never thought of a female serious 'fore I seed you. An' I've got a heart in me, tu. Ban't no auld, rubbishy, worn-out thing, neither, but a tough, love-tight heart at least so 't was till I seed you in your weeds eight year agone." "Eight year a widow! An' so I have been.
So I've brot her, an' what blame comes o't my shoulders is more'n broad enough to carry. I wish, for my paart, as Michael was home, so's I might faace en when Joan says what her've comed to say. I be gwaine to Penzance now, 'pon a matter o' business, an' I'll come back here in an hour or so an' drink a dish o' tea along with you 'fore we staarts."
An' he tawld me to keep my mouth shut, which I've done for the most paart." "A little fuzz chopped fine doan't hurt sheep." "Just so. 'Cause why? They aint got no 'bibles' in their innards; but he've gone an' given it same way to the bullocks." "Gude God!" "'Tis death to beasts wi' 'bibles. An' death it is. The things caan't eat such stuff' cause it sticketh an' brings inflammation.
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