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"You're a wonderful fool," he said, "but I'm not sure that I like you less for that. There was Shon M'Gann but it is no matter." He sighed and continued: "When to-night is over, you shall have work and fun that you've been fattening for this many a year, and the woman'll not find you, be sure of that. Besides " he whispered in Macavoy's ear.
'Most any woman'll take any trip, if it's paid for But look!" she raised her eyes excitedly toward the mantel, "Look! What's that he's wavin'? It looks oh yes, it is it's our wings two pairs mine a little smaller. I s'pose it'll be the same old story I'll never be able to keep up to keep up with him an' I've been so hap "Yes, Morris I'm comin' "
I'm jest tellin' this to show you what a woman'll do when she once makes up her mind, an' maybe Violy ain't any different from the rest of 'em." "Nevertheless, Viola is not that kind," asserted Kenneth, stubbornly. "She may be in love with Lapelle, but if she has made up her mind to be married at her mother's house, that's the end of it. See here, Stain, I've been thinking while you were talking.
As he entered the cabin, a burly, whiskered man looked up and said: "How's he coming, Slip?" "Doc says he's all right. Jest said a woman shot him for tryin' to mind her business, kind-a laughed about hit." "Theh! I always knowed a man that'd chase women the way he done'd git what's comin'. A woman'll make trouble quicker'n anything else on Gawd's earth, she will." "Sho! Buck, yo's soured!"
It served the widow right, he maintained, because she had wasted so much labor on the thing. "Bought good new Merrimac print, she did, an' then set there o' nights a snip-snip-snippin' it up into little scraps an' sewin' 'em together again. If a woman'll do that, it's proof what sort o' brains she's got."
Praised be de name ob de Lawd. He gib me Sal again. De little Chile dat I nussed, dat I raised up in God's 'ligion. Mistah Cantah, save her, suh, f'om dat wicked life o' sin. De Lawd Jesus'll rewa'd you, suh. Dis ole woman'll wuk fo' you twell de flesh drops off'n her fingers, suh." And had he not held her, she would have gone down on her knees on the stone flagging before him.
"Oh, oh, I believe she's sick! Do 'Angels' ever get sick? But she isn't a truly 'Angel, I know now. She's just somebody's lost baby. Queer! Grandpa so old an' she so young should both of 'em get lost to onct, an' only me to look out for 'em! Yet, maybe, that Mary Fogarty woman'll help us out. I hope she'll be like Meg-Laundress, or darlin' Posy Jane. Strange, how long these fields are.
You act solemn, as though this were a funeral, and not just a kiss," I heard him add. He must have advanced toward her. Continually I was upon the point of stepping out from my concealment, but as continually she left that not quite possible by some word or look or gesture of her own with him. "Oh, hang it!" I heard him grumble, at length; "how can one tell what a woman'll do? Damn it, Helen!"
"Not on your tin-type," declared the ticket-taker. "`Me? I says to her. `Me? I'd pinch the harp and pawn it for ten growlers of Dutch beer and some man-sized rum!" "Hee, hee hee!" grinned Mr. Wrenn. "Ha, ha, ha!" grumbled the bartender. "Well-l-l," yawned the ticket-taker, "the old woman'll be chasing me best pants around the flat, if she don't have me to chase, pretty soon.
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