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"Dear Mrs Akroyd, You will have received a telegram from the War Office telling you of your husband's death " As she heard the dreadful tidings, Annie turned deadly pale for a moment; then the blood rushed streaming back, till face and neck were crimson. "It's a lee," she shouted, "a wicked lee. I ain't gotten no tillygram, an' he said he were well an' enjoyin' a rest-cure."
"Th' las' time I was down town was iliction night, whin Charter Haitch's big la-ad was ilicted, an' they was wurrukin' th' stereopticons till they was black in th' face. What's th' news?" "Th' What Cheer, Ioway, Lamp iv Freedom is on th' sthreets with a tillygram that Shafter has captured Sandago de Cuba, an' is now settin' on Gin'ral Pando's chest with his hands in his hair.
He calls it 'Th' Thruce iv th' Bear. This is th' way it happened: Roodyard Kipling had just finished his mornin' batch iv pothry f'r th' home-thrade, an' had et his dinner, an' was thinkin' iv r-runnin' out in th' counthry f'r a breath iv fr-resh air, whin in come a tillygram sayin' that th' Czar iv Rooshia had sint out a circular letther sayin' ivrybody in th' wurruld ought to get together an' stop makin' war an' live a quite an' dull life.
Th' grand times they must've had. Time was whin a man got on a boat an' was lost f'r a week or ten days. Now, be hivens, through th' wondhers iv modhern science he's hardly settled down to a cigar an' a game iv pinochle with another fugitive that he's just met, whin a messenger boy comes down th' deck on his bicycle an' hands him a tillygram with glad tidings fr'm home.
"Of course," said Margaret, crossing the room and sitting down in a rocking-chair. "Of course. A man thinks every woman's good but his wife." "Had to break out, didn't you? Have I said you wan't good?" "Might as well say it as to act it." "How am I actin' it?" "By not lovin' me, that's how." "Not lovin' you. Have you got any postal-kyard or tillygram to that effeck? I ain't sent you no sich news.
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