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But 'twas a pretty sight for the nation. He coloured up like any maid, that 'a did. 'Well enough 'a mid colour up. 'Tis no small matter for a man to play wi' fire. 'Whatever it may be to a woman, said the clerk absently. 'Thou'rt thinken o' thy wife, clerk, said Gad Weedy. 'She'll play wi'it again when thou'st got mildewed.
Ted was meanwhile bending over his prostrate foe, which, to his relief, was not absolutely dead, though it was gasping and turning up its eyes in rather a ghastly manner. He took it up in his arms, still enfolded in his coat. "It's wick still, as how 'tis," he remarked. "Eh! how it's kickin' out with they ugly yaller legs! Now then, owd lad, what mun we do wi'it, think'st thou?
"I make no doubt he had his reasons for desertin'; but, my faith! I make less doubt ivry man has good reason for killin' him," said Mulvaney. "Happen there was a lass tewed up wi'it. Men do more than more for th' sake of a lass." "They make most av us 'list. They've no manner av right to make us desert."
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