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Updated: June 8, 2025
Brunger was occupied in composing an unsolicited testimonial to be sent to the wife of a green-grocer in the Borough who, on the previous day, had summoned her husband for assault at Lambeth Police-Court. "I had suspicions but no proof of my 'usband's infidelity," dictated Mr. Brunger, pacing the floor, "until I enlisted your services. I must say " At that moment the telephone bell rang. Mr.
"I don't see," said Lady Joram, "why a lady, any more than a gentleman, should refuse to drink a proper toast as this is; Sir Jenkins has not turned down his glass, and neither shall I. Come, then, Mr. Folliard, please to fill mine; I shall drink it in a bumper." "And I," said Mrs. Oxley, "always drinks my 'usband's principles.
"Talking to the men as I did. I always wanted the window down, so you shouldn't hear." "It was you, then?" "Didn't you know, miss?" "Not altogether. It was something like your voice." "If I were to talk to them ordinary, they wouldn't listen; so I've to talk to them in my 'usband's language, which is all they understand," said Mrs Ellis apologetically.
You poke me in the ribs like that agin if you dare." "Her fust 'usband's alive," ses Alf, smiling at un. "Wot?" ses his uncle. "He floated away on a bit o' wreckage," ses Alf, nodding at 'im, "just like they do in books, and was picked up more dead than alive and took to Melbourne. He's now living up-country working on a sheep station." "Who's dreaming now?" ses his uncle. "It's a fact," ses Alf.
'Well, p'leaceman, I don't mean to be sarcy: but seein' as all my pore dear 'usband's kith and kin o' the name o' Goodjohn was buried in Llanbeblig churchyard, p'raps you'll be kind enough to let me go there sometimes, an' p'raps be buried there when my time comes. 'But what took you there? I said.
My last 'usband's left me since yer was 'ere indeed 'e 'av all along of a fight 'e 'ad with old Colly Moles down Three Barrer walk penal servitude, poor feller and all along of 'is nasty temper as I was always tellin' 'im.
They used to live 'ere, five or six year ago, and now 'er 'usband's dead, Mrs. 'Arrison's coming back with the boy to live. Worse luck. We thought we was shut of 'em." "Oh!" I said. "The boy's an idiot, I suppose." "'Orrible," replied Bates, shaking his head, "'orrible; can't speak nor nothing; goes about bleating and baa-ing like an old sheep."
"Will you come and shake 'ands with me, Reggie? What a dear, good- looking boy he is, Mrs Cruden! And 'ow do you do, too, my man?" said she, addressing Horace. "Pretty well? And what do they call you?" "My name is Horace," said "my man," blushing very decidedly, and retreating precipitately to a far corner of the room. "Ah, dear me! And my 'usband's name, Mrs Cruden, was 'Oward.
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