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"He's a good sport," went on the news-gatherer, "an' he don't ask no help from nobody. He stan's on his two feet like a man, m'lord. When he sees a row ahead he don't go to the law with it; no, m'lord; no indeed, m'lord. He says 'Hell with the law! Like a man would, like me an' you . . . an' he kills his own rats himself." "That's the Packard of him!
'Fifteen thousan' dollars, he said slowly 'not a cent less. The man parleyed a little over the price. 'Don' care t' take any less t'day, said David calmly. 'No harm done. 'How much down? David named the sum. 'An' possession? 'Next week' 'Everything as it stan's? 'Everything as it stan's 'cept the beds an' bedding. 'Here's some money on account, he said. 'We'll close t'morrer?
"Your orders are to cover our long-range ships. They'll be heavy and gas logged. My planes have to get to use all of that extra gas, Sim. What we're doing is trying to break the jinx on the fighters." "Yeah? It smells bad to me. I think you're trying to get yourself an extra bar on your shoulder." Stan's lips pulled into a straight line.
I stan's by dem ohduhs while dere's bref in my ol' body." Holton was infuriated. "It's lucky for you I'm not your master!" "Dat's what I t'ink, suh." "If you was my nigger, I'd teach you perliteness with a black-snake whip! I'll see what Layson'll say to such sass as you've gin me. Jest you wait till you hear from him." Neb was not impressed by the man's wrath. "Huhd from him afoah, suh.
"I was jes' a-takin' a little sleep on de big rug side of your door, Missy. I'se been a-sleepin' dere dis long time. My mammy lets me. An' when you opens de door I mos' calls out, but didn't. I jes' stan's up quick, so's you nebber know I was thar," and Estralla chuckled happily. Sylvia wondered to herself why Estralla should choose such a hard bed.
I enjoyed hearing about the Marconigrams when they came; it seemed like living in a tale by Stan's favourite, Jules Verne, to have messages come flying to us in mid-ocean, like invisible carrier pigeons. I enjoyed having Mr.
"She ware a tough-lookin' old gal, an' her hat brim flopped over her face. O'Toole met her an' pointed to Garnett. "'If it's th' leddy-killer av th' fleet ye're afther, there he Stan's. "Th' old woman looked an' stopped. "'No, says she, in a sort o' jangled tone, 'eets my little gal I looks fer she's aboard here wid th' capt'in,
Ess Kay, she smiled; but her smile meant worse things than Stan's frown. "Hullo, dear boy," I chirped, nervously. "How do you do, Mrs. Stuyvesant-Knox?" Sally murmured something, too, and Stan had the grace to claw off his hat, showing how damp his poor hair was on his crimson forehead, but he didn't even pretend to smile. "A nice dance you've led us," said he.
"Right waist gunner to pilot, sir. 190's at eleven o'clock. They're after the flight ahead." "Rear gunner Roger, sir. Flock of Focke-Wulfs at six o'clock. Coming in on our tail." "I say, old man, don't get itchy fingers. No ammo to waste." Allison's voice was calm and unruffled. O'Malley's voice broke in over Stan's headset. "Hey, sure an' we ought to go down an' bust that up."
"But did Jo. do that because the Chinaman did not, or would n'ot, learn to cut down trees like a white man?" "Sure! it stan's so on the record, which makes it true an' legal. My knowin' better doesn't make any difference with legal truth; it wasn't my funeral and I wasn't invited to deliver an oration.
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