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And as I loosens my hold he straightens up, only to get the full benefit of that placid, ladylike lookover. "Ahr-r-r chee!" says he, glancin' disgusted at me. Then he starts gettin' rosy in the ears, like he always does when there's fluffs around, and after one more hasty look he bolts back into the gym.
"He left the road, and the tent, and the merry fire under a hedge for your Gentile life. But a born Romany he was and no Gorgio. Ahr-r-r!" she shook herself with disgust. "Why did he labor for gold in the Gentile manner, when he could have chored and cheated like a true-hearted black one?" Her allusions to money suddenly enlightened the young man.
"By the way, Swifty," says I, "you remember that Barton party who was in here one day?" "Mister Barton," says he reprovin'. "Say, he was a reg'lar guy, he was!" "Think so?" says I. "Think!" explodes Swifty indignant. "Ahr-r-r chee! Why, say, any bonehead could see he was a real' gent to the last tap of the gong." And, say, I didn't have the heart to break the spell.
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