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Updated: June 5, 2025
'As if he was a feller! observed Miss Squeers, with emphatic indignation. 'Ye'd betther inquire, mun, said John Browdie. 'An' hond up another pigeon-pie, will 'ee?
Thus, he was in a condition to relate the exact circumstances of the difference between the Marquis of Mizzler and Lord Bobby, which it appeared originated in a disputed bottle of champagne, and not in a pigeon-pie, as erroneously reported in the newspapers; neither had Lord Bobby said to the Marquis of Mizzler, 'Mizzler, one of us two tells a lie, and I'm not the man, as incorrectly stated by the same authorities; but 'Mizzler, you know where I'm to be found, and damme, sir, find me if you want me' which, of course, entirely changed the aspect of this interesting question, and placed it in a very different light.
"Who was climbing over that wall?" "I don't know, sir." And it is in the speaker's own trousers, very likely, the glass bottle-tops have left their cruel scars. And so with servants. "Who ate up the three pigeons which went down in the pigeon-pie at breakfast this morning?"
"Meanwhile the business of dinner went on rapidly. The servants, of whom enormous numbers were now present, ran hither and thither; and duck, ham, pigeon-pie, cold veal, apple tarts, cheese, pickled salmon, melon, and rice pudding, flourished on every side.
He would be drowning "the clear voice" with Moselle cup and smothering it with galantine of chicken and pigeon-pie. "I want you to promise me," Millicent said, "just to eat this one meal happily with me, eat and forget. For half an hour or more don't ask me any questions and don't scold!" She handed Michael an olive in her fingers. "Open," she said. "They're so good."
The pigeon-pie was not bad, but it was a delusive pie: the crust being like a disappointing head, phrenologically speaking: full of lumps and bumps, with nothing particular underneath.
Pigeon-pie, a leg of pickled pork, a pair of fowls, and suitable garden stuff. The best of drinks. I give them a speech, and the gentleman give us a speech, and all our jokes told, and the whole went off like a sky-rocket.
I means that sort o' contentment that makes a man feel happy though he hasn't got champagne an' taters, pigeon-pie, lobscouse, plum-duff, mustard an' jam at every blow-out; that sort o' contentment that takes things as they come, an' enjoys 'em without grumpin' an' growlin' 'cause he hasn't got somethin' else."
The conversation, very desultory, was syncopated by Jack Cardigan talking about "mid-off." He cited all the "great mid-offs" from the beginning of time, as if they had been a definite racial entity in the composition of the British people. Soames had finished his lobster, and was beginning on pigeon-pie, when he heard the words, "I'm a small bit late, Mrs.
I observed that he did the same thing while I was getting out the remains of the pigeon-pie, and so forth. 'Why, Daisy, here's a supper for a king! he exclaimed, starting out of his silence with a burst, and taking his seat at the table. 'I shall do it justice, for I have come from Yarmouth. 'I thought you came from Oxford? I returned. 'Not I, said Steerforth.
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