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Updated: May 3, 2025
He must have seen that I was not in earnest, for he replied, gaily, "No, yer don't. Ef yer do, I'll run yer in for prize-fightin', so now." "How much do you earn by blacking boots?" I asked, feeling an involuntary interest in this strange gutter lad. "Some days I gets a tanner. But, bless you, I ain't a brigade bloke. I say, though, where's t'other flat; 'im with the eyes?"
"It's my opinion," put in Cai, "that missionary did you in the eye." "Oh, that's your opinion, is it? Well, you'd best take care, my joker, or you'll get something in the eye yourself." "We don't want any prize-fightin' here, if you please," commanded Mrs Bosenna. "There again!" foamed 'Bias, with difficulty checking an oath. "A prize-fighter, am I? Who put that into your head, ma'am?
"And I'm to believe that, just as I'm to believe, sir," she addressed herself stiffly to 'Bias "that you never used bad language in your life!" "I didn' say that, ma'am not exactly," urged the bewildered 'Bias. "I dunno what's this about bad language. Who's been usin' bad language? Not me." "Not since your prize-fightin' days, perhaps, Captain Hunken." "My prize-fightin' days?
"'It's all in getting accustomed to it, he says. "I spends the night at a hotel in Philadelphia with a guy named Ben, who's the mechanic, 'n' the next mawnin' I sees the race. Say! Prize-fightin', or war, or any of them little games is like button-button to this automobile racin'! They kills two guys that day 'n' why they ain't all killed is by me.
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