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Updated: May 23, 2025
They look at one another, and Tony goes listening to the door, and a little way upstairs, and a little way downstairs. Comes back and says it's all right and all quiet, and quotes the remark he lately made to Mr. Snagsby about their cooking chops at the Sol's Arms. "And it was then," resumes Mr.
Snagsby trails off into saying, with an awkward cough, "I must ask you to excuse the liberty, sir, I am sure." "Not at all," says Mr. Tulkinghorn. "You told me, Snagsby, that you put on your hat and came round without mentioning your intention to your wife. That was prudent I think, because it's not a matter of such importance that it requires to be mentioned." "Well, sir," returns Mr.
"Oh, dear, dear!" cried the girl, pressing her hair back with her hands. "What shall I do, what shall I do! She meant the burying ground where the man was buried that took the sleeping-stuff that you came home and told us of, Mr. Snagsby that frightened me so, Mrs. Snagsby. Oh, I am frightened again. Hold me!" "You are so much better now," sald I. "Pray, pray tell me more."
Snagsby, sitting up with her head in a perfect beehive of curl-papers and night-cap, who has dispatched Guster to the police-station with official intelligence of her husband's being made away with, and who within the last two hours has passed through every stage of swooning with the greatest decorum. But as the little woman feelingly says, many thanks she gets for it! Esther's Narrative
Snagsby; consequently, the robe-maker's two daughters, combing their curls at the two glasses in the two second-floor windows of the opposite house, are not driving the two 'prentices to distraction as they fondly suppose, but are merely awakening the unprofitable admiration of Guster, whose hair won't grow, and never would, and it is confidently thought, never will. "Master at home?" says Mr.
Weevle moodily pushes the snuffers-tray from him with his elbow, leans his head on his hand, puts his feet on the fender, and looks at the fire. Mr. Guppy, observing him, slightly tosses his head and sits down on the other side of the table in an easy attitude. "Wasn't that Snagsby talking to you, Tony?" "Yes, and he yes, it was Snagsby," said Mr. Weevle, altering the construction of his sentence.
You are by no means to move off, Jo, for the great lights can't at all agree about that. Move on! Mr. Snagsby says nothing to this effect, says nothing at all indeed, but coughs his forlornest cough, expressive of no thoroughfare in any direction. By this time Mr. and Mrs. Chadband and Mrs. Snagsby, hearing the altercation, have appeared upon the stairs.
In fact, he lodges at a " Mr. Snagsby makes another bolt, as if the bit of bread and buffer were insurmountable " at a rag and bottle shop." "Can you show me the place as I go back?" "With the greatest pleasure, sir!" Mr. Snagsby pulls off his sleeves and his grey coat, pulls on his black coat, takes his hat from its peg. "Oh! Here is my little woman!" he says aloud.
Snagsby in the light of a determined enemy to virtue, with a forehead of brass and a heart of adamant, that unfortunate tradesman becomes yet more disconcerted and is in a very advanced state of low spirits and false position when Mr. Chadband accidentally finishes him.
And it is the fearful peculiarity of this condition that, at any hour of his daily life, at any opening of the shop-door, at any pull of the bell, at any entrance of a messenger, or any delivery of a letter, the secret may take air and fire, explode, and blow up Mr. Bucket only knows whom. Snagsby in?" or words to that innocent effect, Mr. Snagsby's heart knocks hard at his guilty breast.
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