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"I'm going to give you a sovereign," he said "twenty shillings, for your fair start; and I want you to come to me here next Sunday-week to breakfast, and tell me what you've done with it." "Me y'r gryce!" A look of fright almost came into the lad's face. "Twenty bob me!" The sovereign was already in his hand, and now his face suffused. He seemed anxious to get away, and looked round for his cap.
Tell my servant to have up a cab," he said to Krool, who stood outside the door. "Truly, 'e will be glad," the girl exclaimed. "'E told me about the suvring, and Sunday-week for brekfis," she murmured. "You'll never miss the time, y'r gryce. Gawd knows you'll not miss it an' 'e ain't got much left." "I will go, too if you will let me," said Jasmine to Stafford. "You must let me go.
He couldn't do here what he wanted to do. He felt that he must burst. "Now, off you go. And you be here at nine o'clock on Sunday-week with the papers, and tell me what you've done." "Gawd my Gawd!" said the lad, huskily. The next minute he was out in the hall, and the door was shut behind him.
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