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Updated: June 11, 2025
What was the use of it? "Good-evening, Miss Falconer," was all I said. It seemed a long time before she answered. Rigid, uncompromising, she faced me; and I read storm signals in the deep flush of her cheeks, the gray flash of her eyes, the stiffness of her white-draped head. "Oh, Lord!" I groaned to myself in cold compassion, "she means to bluff it! Can't she see that the game's played out?"
"But I'm sure Captain Puffin played quite beautifully too," said Miss Mapp in the vain attempt to detain him. She liked to collect all the men round her, and then scold them for not talking to the other ladies. "Well, a game's a game," said the Major. "It gets through the hours, Miss Mapp. Yes: we finished at the fourteenth hole, and hurried back to more congenial society.
"I'm not going for denying to what you say. I'm like the fish at the heel of the trawl-boat the net's closing in on me and I'm caught. The game's up. I did deceave you. I did write those letters myself. I've no Uncle Joe, nor no Auntie Joney neither. My wife's left me. I'm not knowing where she is, or what's becoming of her. I'm done, and I'm for throwing up the sponge."
Running and passing is all right, but a good, hard game's the thing for putting you into form. And then I was thinking that, as the side that loses, whichever it is " "Seymour's, of course." "Hope so. Well, they're bound to be a bit sick at losing, so they'll play up all the harder on Saturday to console themselves for losing the cup." "My word, what strategy!" said Clowes.
I heard him tell Reddy the other day that he was planning a variation of the forward pass that he thought would be a corker." "Well," said Mr. Quinby, "we'll hope so. It's almost as hard to forecast results in football as it is in baseball. The game's never over until the referee blows his whistle. I've seen teams touted as certain winners go all to pieces on the day of the game.
We shall at least use the compliment of Conan, who never got a stroke but he gave one. I would not, however, continued the Chieftain, 'have you think me mad enough to stir till a favourable opportunity: I will not slip my dog before the game's afoot. But, once more, will you join with us, and you shall know all?
No, D., things must take a turn, or the game's lost and we'll go with it. Success is the only thing that'll save their lives and ours: we couldn't stand failure in this. A man can walk to the gates of hell to do the hardest trick, and he'll come back one great blister and live, if he's done the thing he set out for; but if he doesn't do it, he falls into the furnace. He never comes back.
If the game's got you, it's got me too to the limit. There's no use talking about that." The Flopper licked his lips miserably. "Swipe me!" he mumbled. "Hell wasn't never like dis! Me an' Mamie we've got it fixed, an' her old man says he'll take me inter de store. Say, Doc, say ain't dere a chanst ter live straight now we wants ter?"
The game's my own, you know; and the rules of the club give me immunity from a fellow-member." "By Gad, I'll resign! I must see this forest beauty." "Impossible!" "Where's she? How will you prevent?" "By a very easy process. Do you know the bird that shrieks farthest from her young ones when the fowler is at hand? I'll follow her example."
'I haven't a very good memory, but I'm afraid you must tell me your errand, Sir, for I really don't know it. 'Well, then, I said, and all the time I seemed to myself to be talking pure foolishness 'I have come to tell you that the game's up. I have a warrant for the arrest of you three gentlemen. 'Arrest, said the old man, and he looked really shocked. 'Arrest! Good God, what for?
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