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Farnol, Jeffery, 1878-1952

"The Definite Object A Romance of New York"

"
"You mean, sir?"
"No fighting, Joe--at least, not yet."
"Trust me, sir! What ain't to be--yet, is to be sometime, I 'opes,"
sighed Joe.
"Good-by, Guv, good-by!" croaked the Old Un, "if I don't put some o'
they perishers in the 'orspitals an' the infirmaries--I ain't the man I
was--
"'Oh, used am I to war's alarms
I 'unger for the fray,
Though beauty clasps me in 'er arms
The trumpet calls away.'"
So having made their adieux, the three took their departure; though
once, despite Joe's objurgations, the Old Un must needs come back to
kiss Mrs. Trapes's toil-worn hand with a flourish which left her
voiceless and round of eye until the clatter of their feet had died
away.
Then she closed the door and fixed Ravenslee with her stoniest stare.
"Mr. Geoffrey," she demanded, "why did they call you 'Guv'nor', and
wherefore 'Sir'?"
Ravenslee, in the act of lighting his pipe, had paused for a suitable
answer, when Tony, who had remained mute in a corner, stepped forward
and spoke:
"Say, Geoff, I got-a bit-a more noos.


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