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Updated: May 17, 2025
He also was a thrall of woman, newly enrolled, and full of wonder. "What, Tom!" the farmer sang out as soon as he had opened the door; "there ye be! at yer Folly agin, are ye? What good'll them fashens do to you, I'd like t'know? Come, shut up, and go and see to Mr. Fev'rel's mare. He's al'ays at that ther' Folly now. I say there never were a better name for a book than that ther' Folly!
You want that drection. You want t'know where she lives. DO you Mist Wrayburn? With a glance at his friend, Eugene replied to the question sternly, 'I do. 'I am er man, said Mr Dolls, trying to smite himself on the breast, but bringing his hand to bear upon the vicinity of his eye, 'er do it. I am er man er do it. 'What are you the man to do? demanded Eugene, still sternly.
"Yesh!" said Byers thickly, "my first wife shelected and picked out fer your shecond wife by your first like d d conundrum. How wash I t'know?" he said, with a sudden shriek of public expostulation "thash what I wanter know. Here I come to talk with fr'en', like man to man, unshuspecting, innoshent as chile, about my shecond wife! Fr'en' drops out, carryin' off the whiskey.
Lowering his voice to what was intended for a whisper, the miner, with a jerk of his thumb Pandoraward, continued: "Stranger, d'ye hap'n t'know 'er?" "Certainly; that is Bridget Pandora, a Greek maiden, in the pay of the Board of Supervisors."
She brushed past her indignant mistress and faced Sylvia, waving a dirty piece of paper. "Lor', miss," she almost screamed, "you do say as you want t'know where that limb Tray 'ave got to " "Yes yes," said Sylvia, rising, "he escaped from Mr. Hurd, and we want to find him very much." "It's a letter from 'im," said Mrs.
"If it wasn't that baby's out of hand now and runnin' about I couldn't let her go, not if it was ever so," replied Mrs Lane emphatically. "But I shall rub along somehow, and seven pounds a year's a consideration. Yes, she's a handy gal, Biddy is, with children. She had ought t'know summat about 'em, for she's helped to bring six of 'em up. There was Stevie a deal of trouble we had with him.
He also was a thrall of woman, newly enrolled, and full of wonder. "What, Tom!" the farmer sang out as soon as he had opened the door; "there ye be! at yer Folly agin, are ye? What good'll them fashens do to you, I'd like t'know? Come, shut up, and go and see to Mr. Fev'rel's mare. He's al'ays at that ther' Folly now. I say there never were a better name for a book than that ther' Folly!
Like an American humourist, she still goes on wanting 't'know. Even more than man, she exaggerates the value of the articulate, the organised. She has always been in love with 'accomplishments, and she loves natures that are minted into current coin of ready gifts and graces. She cares more for the names of things than for the things themselves. Of things without names she is impatient.
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