ogether, Buty Dziecko Jordan 12 when I’m walking i’ lone places, and if I’n done a bit o’ mischief, I allays Phoenix Suns tell him. I’n got no secrets but what Mumps knows ’em. He knows about my big thumb, he does.”
“Your big thumb — what’s that, Bob?” said Maggie.
“That’s Chile Dres Děti what it is, Miss,” said Bob, quickly, exhibiting a singularly broad specimen of that difference between the man and the monkey. “It Uruguay Dresy tells i’ measuring out the flannel, you see. I carry flannel, ‘cause it’s light for my pack, an’ it’s dear stuff, you see, so a big thumb tells. I clap my thumb at the end o’ the yard and cut o’ the hither side of it, and the old women aren’t up to’t.”
“But Bob,” said Maggie, looking serious, “that’s cheating; I don’t like to hear you say that.”
“Don’t you, Miss?” said Bob regretfully. “Then I’m sorry I said it. But I’m so used to talking to Mumps, an’ he doesn’t mind a bit o’ cheating, when it’s them skinflint women, as haggle an’ haggle, an’ ‘ud Maglie Kristaps Porzingis like to get Paul Pogba Fotbalové Dres their flannel for nothing, an’ ‘ud niver ask theirselves how I got my dinner out on’t. I niver cheat anybody as doesn’t want to cheat me, Miss — lors, I’m a honest chap, I am; only I must hev a bit o’ sport, an’ now I don’t go wi’ th’ ferrets, I’n got no varmint to come over but them haggling women. I wish you good evening, Miss.”
“Good-by, Bob. Thank you very much for bringing me the books. And come again to see Tom.”
“Yes, Miss,” said Bob, moving on a few steps; Thiago Silva Fotbalové Dres then turning half round he said, “I’ll leave off that trick wi’ my big thumb, if you don’t think well on me for it, Miss; but it ‘ud be a pity, it would. I Portugalsko Dresy couldn’t find another trick so good — an’ what ‘ud be the use o’ havin’ a big thumb? It might as well ha’ been narrow.”
Maggie, thus exalted into Bob’s exalting Madonna, laughed in spite Buty Męskie Jordan Bel Air of herself; at which her worshipper’s blue eyes twinkled too, and under these favoring auspices he touched his cap and walked away.
The days of chivalry are not gone, notwithstanding Burke’s grand dirge over them; they live still in that far-off worship paid by many a youth and man to the woman of whom he never dreams that he shall touch so much as Charlotte Hornets her little finger or the hem of her robe. Bob, with the pack Slovinsko Dresy on his back, had as respectful an adoration for this dark-eyed maiden as Maglie Timofey Mozgov if he had been a knight in armor calling aloud on her name as he pricked on to the fight.
That gleam of merriment soon died away from Maggie’s face, and perhaps only made the returning gloom deeper by contrast. She was too dispirited even to like answering questions about Bob’s present of books, and she carried them away to her bedroom, laying them down there and seating herself on her one stool, without caring to look at them just yet. She leaned her cheek against the window-frame, and thought that the light-hearted Bob had a lot much happier than hers.
Maggie’s sense of loneliness, and utter privation of joy, had deepened with the brightnelinks:
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