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"Flannel," answered Mrs. Treacher, "is all prices, according to quality." "But I am talking of good ordinary flannel, fit to make up into a man's shirt." "Then you couldn't say less than one-three-farthings, or one-and-a-ha'penny at the lowest." "And how much would be required?" "Good Lord!" said Mrs. Treacher. "As if that didn't all depend on the man!" "I was thinking, Mrs.
Almost the next morning I had the good fortune to find a dead man with a warm, whole, infantry dress-coat, a most serviceable garment. As I still had for a shirt the blouse Andrews had given me at Millen, I now considered my wardrobe complete, and left the rest of the clothes to those who were more needy than I.
"Upon my word," she said to herself, as she ascended the stairs behind the lean legs of a Mussulman servant in a dirty shirt and an embroidered cap, "he's so light-hearted, so general, that one doubts the very tremendous effect even of a failure like the one he contemplates."
Then for the first time had the thought of his wound recurred to him. Stripping himself of his coat, waistcoat and shirt, he perceived that he had lost an immense quantity of blood. Tearing a piece off his linen shirt he proceeded to moisten the coagulated blood to ascertain the nature of his hurt.
How was that? The last night pa was boosed he was standing on the landing there bawling out for his boots to go out to Tunney's for to boose more and he looked butty and short in his shirt. Never see him again. Death, that is. Pa is dead. My father is dead. He told me to be a good son to ma. I couldn't hear the other things he said but I saw his tongue and his teeth trying to say it better.
You will please meet me outside there is plenty of firelight under the trees, and the sooner we get through this the better. The apology should not come from me, and will not. Come, gentlemen," and he stepped out into the now drizzling night, the glare of the torches falling on his determined face and white shirt as he strode down the path followed by his seconds.
He found a keg of spirits and some half-spoiled biscuit, and by these means his life was prolonged. He made a bag of his shirt, bound a few things on his back, and buried others in the sand, to return to if necessary, and then continued to follow the shore northward, in search of some spring or stream.
He panted for breath, and the sweat streamed from him. Before he had covered a quarter of a mile he stripped off his woollen shirt and hung it on a tree. A little later he discarded his hat. At the end of half a mile he decided he was finished. He had never exerted himself so in his life, and he knew that he was finished.
"Truly, then," he said, with a glance at his blood-stained shirt, "it seems to me that I have at all events begun my lesson in the right school. However, I believe thou art right, Bacri, and I bear thee no ill-will for the rap thou didst bestow on my skull, which, luckily, is a thick one, else thy ponderous fist had split it from the cranium to the chin."
Slipping, then, aside the young lad's shirt, and tucking it up under his clothes behind, he shewed to the open air those globular fleshy eminences that compose the Mount Peasants of Rome, and which now, with all the narrow vale that intersects them, stood displayed and exposed to his attack; nor could I without a shudder behold the dispositions he made for it.
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