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Updated: May 26, 2025
Roscoe had laughed bitterly throughout this monologue. "Drunk in business hours! Thass awf'l! Mus'n' do such thing! Mus'n' get drunk, mus'n' gamble, mus'n' kill 'nybody not in business hours! All right any other time. Kill 'nybody you want to 's long 'tain't in business hours! Fine! Mus'n' have any trouble 't'll innerfere business. Keep your trouble 't home. Don' bring it to th' office.
Thass all I'll say. Thass all I haf to say! An' mebbe I won't haf to say that. Faw I'm tryin' love lettehs on her; wrote the fus' one this evenin'; on'y got two mo' to write. My third inevasively fetches 'em down the tree, seh!" The lobbyist revived the subject of politics, the publican went after hot water for a punch, and the eavesdroppers slipped away. Early the following week Mr.
Oh, yass, suh, thass his tha' thass his ma'ied son, in thah; yass, suh, the one 'ith the fah hah; yass, suh. I thought you meant the yetheh one." "I don't believe," said I, "I'd better put myself on the old gentleman when the mistress of the house is away." "She ain't awa-ay." "Is she not! Isn't she the Mrs. Oliver Charlotte Oliver who is such friends she and her husband, I mean, of course, "
And the Creole rejoined promptly: "Well, I thought I saw something on yo' thoughts if you'll excuse my tautology. Thass a ve'y diffycult to p'event sometime'. But, Mistoo Itchlin, I trus' 'tis not you 'ave allowed somebody to swin'le you? confiding them too indiscweetly, in fact?" He took a pretty attitude, his eyes reposing in Richling's. Richling laughed outright. "No, nothing of that kind.
Those wall is broke in those plaze, M'sieur Robbin', and I plaze those li'l peezes papier to conceal ze crack. I did think the couleur harm'nize so well with the wall papier. Where I get them from? Ah, yes, I remem' ver' well. One day M'sieur Morin, he come at my houze thass 'bout one mont' before he shall die thass 'long 'bout tam he promise fo' inves' those money fo' me.
"It is different, the quality of the dance of mademoiselle," said he. "It is quelque chose, I do not know what. It is not to describe. It make you think, thass all. As I say, she has come to be a religion." "But where does this divine creature live, Jules? Who is she? Come, now? you ought to tell me that much," Jules went on polishing a glass. "Ah, Monsieur, why you h'ask?" said he.
"I alvayss like to oplyche a yendleman," he smiled benignly, drew out a toothpick, and added, "ovver I nivveh bporrah or lend to ennabodda." "An' then," said Narcisse, promptly, "'tis imposs'ble faw anybody to be offended. Thass the bess way, Mr. Bison." "Yayss," said the baker, "I tink udt iss." As they were parting, he added: "Ovver you vait dtill you see mine prate!" "I'll do it, seh! And, Mr.
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