One of Us |
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Author:
| Randolph, Edmund |
ISBN: | 978-0-217-26815-8 |
Publication Date: | Aug 2009 |
Publisher: | General Books LLC
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Book Format: | Paperback |
List Price: | USD $14.14 |
Book Description:
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Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: in a series of somersaults makes off towards Peabody, probably for protection. If so, he has mistaken his man. The fellow levels his piece. Well, I am d d- mutters my silent follower behind my back, and he runs forward, as does Mr. Goby, to stop it. That's this 'ere gent's bird, exclaims my man, with...
More DescriptionPurchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: in a series of somersaults makes off towards Peabody, probably for protection. If so, he has mistaken his man. The fellow levels his piece. Well, I am d d- mutters my silent follower behind my back, and he runs forward, as does Mr. Goby, to stop it. That's this 'ere gent's bird, exclaims my man, with smothered indignation. The faithless Goby, who has caught it, winks as one who would imply that his doubts as to the ownership are not of a serious nature. And then they stand and look at each other. My bird, I think, simpers Sir Free- body, advancing and raising his hat (we are not intimate). You fired the moment after me, as he was falling, I believe, in fact I'm sure, I saw him begin to As Skipwith says, a row is such a d ungentlemanly thing, I submit, vowing that if his behaviour in future is not gentle and pretty, that woodcock shall be flushed again. Look I hear next in a stage whisper, that poor fellow there has more than he can carry, you might help him, eh ? Just two or three heads, don't you know, a hare, and a brace of The rest is lost. My ex-valet runs off, and reappears a few minutes later with a few well selected heads and tails protruding from his wallet. The next act is not far from being a tragedy. We are crossing an open piece. Skipwith is just confiding to me that he looks upon our friend as a dangerous Bedlamite, when a loud report sounds almost in our ears. Skipwith jumps forward, and feels himself minutely all the way down. Pea- body, very white in the gills, his gun still smoking, stands immediately behind, and fronting him, with an expression of face never to be forgotten, is a knowing old spaniel. Mercy on us, what are you at ? it says as plainly as words ever spoken by man. We both stop and look at him in am...