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I'd kept quiet, and that's why Tooley come across my quarter." Mrs. Maxwell was sorting over her music, while Maxwell's face was hidden behind a paper. Mrs. Burke was silent through despair. Nickey glanced furtively at his hearers for a moment and then continued: "Yes, the kids was tickled; but they got awful quiet when I told them to fork over another cent apiece for the jack-pot."
A few minutes later he left the station and, turning to the right, walked slowly as far as Tooley Street. He kept on the right-hand side until he arrived at the spot where the great arches, with their scanty lights, make a gloomy thoroughfare into Bermondsey. In the shadow of the first of these he paused and looked steadfastly across the street.
He was already in the act of putting on the white hat; and, two seconds afterwards, was in the street wending his way homeward. There was a tavern named the "Angel" at the corner of one of the streets off Tooley Street, which Edward Hooper had to pass every evening on his way home. Ned, we grieve to say, was fond of his beer; he always found it difficult to pass a tavern.
We were crossing into Southwark at the end of Tower Bridge that we might walk through Tooley Street, once a hot-bed of sedition and dissent, which many of its inhabitants made too hot to hold them, and so fled away to cool themselves in different parts of the American wilderness.
After we made Tooley run ten times, he struck work and wouldn't run any more; so we just had to let him go; but I didn't care nothn' about that, 'cause you see I had the kids' cash in my pants pocket, and that was what I was after. Well, sir, when it was all over, 'cause I'd busted the bank " "Nicholas Burke, I am ashamed of you." "Never mind, ma; I'm most through now.
Weatherley's disappearance coming on the top of it all simply makes my brain reel. I can't do anything to help straighten things out. Therefore, I am going to do what I am told I am going to mind my own business." "To think only of Tooley Street," she murmured. "I shall find it quite enough," he answered. "I want to understand all the details of the business, and it isn't easy at first. Mr.
His face now was a little flushed, but his nervousness had not disappeared. He was certainly not the same man whom one met at Tooley Street. "Glad to see you've made friends with the wife, Chetwode," he said. "She seems to have taken quite a fancy to you." "Mrs. Weatherley has been very kind," Arnold answered. "Enjoying yourself, I hope?" Mr. Weatherley asked. "Very much indeed," Arnold declared.
Here, on being questioned, he related how that, while in Rome he had been seized with a fever which laid him prostrate for many weeks; that, on his recovery, he wrote to Loo and his father, but received no reply from either of them; that he afterwards spent some months in Switzerland, making more than enough of money with his brush to "keep the pot boiling," and that, finally, he returned home to find that dear Loo was dead, and that the great Tooley Street fire had swept away his father's premises and ruined him.
I used to make about forty calls a day, till I called at your husband's office in Tooley Street and got a situation." She nodded. "I thought it was something like that," she remarked. "Supposing I had not happened to discover you, I wonder how long you would have gone on?" "Not much longer," he admitted.
Olaf was their saint, and Tooley Street is but a corruption of his name. They had a church and burial-place where now St. Clement-Danes stands awry on the Strand a church that is of interest not only on its own account, but for the venerable antiquity it represents.
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