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Farnol, Jeffery, 1878-1952

"The Definite Object A Romance of New York"


"Joe," said he, when his wind was somewhat recovered, "that makes it
thirty dollars I owe you, I think?"
"Why, sir," said Joe, who also showed some slight signs of wear, but
whose breathing was soft and regular, "why, sir, you couldn't call that
last one a real knockdown--"
"You 'm a liar, Joe, a liar!" cried the Old Un. "Blimy, Guv, Joe's
a-tellin' you crackers, s' help me--your 'ands touched the floor, didn't
they?"
"And my knees, too," nodded Ravenslee, "also my elbow--no, that was last
time or the time before."
"Well, then, tell this lying Joe-lad o' mine as 'e surely did knock ye
down. Lord, Joe!" cried the Old Un, waxing pathetic, "'ow can ye go
takin' money from a pore old cove like I be. Joe, I blushes for
ye--an'--Time, Time there, both on ye!"
"But we don't want any more, do we, sir?" enquired Joe.
"Why, yes, I think I can go another round or so."
"There y' are, Joe, the Guv's surely a game cove. So get at it, me lad,
an' try an' knock it up to fifty dollars--'arves, Joe, mind!"
"But, sir," began Joe, eyeing the livid blotches on Ravenslee's white
skin, "don't ye think--"
"Time--oh, Time, Time!" shrieked the Old Un.


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