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Welsh, James C.

"The Underworld The Story of Robert Sinclair, Miner"


"I was guid enough a gey lang while, an'--"
"Ay, but you've haen a damn'd guid innins," he interrupted. "A dam'd
guid innins, an' I canna see what the hell you hae to yowl at."
"A guid innins, you muckle black-hearted brute!" she cried. "By heavens,
an' I'll see that you get yours afore I hae done wi' you. Dinna think
though I hae been saft wi' you a' along, that I'll ay be like that. Oh,
no, I can stand a lot; but you'll find oot that Mag Robertson hasna selt
her a' tae you, without driving a hard bargain afore she lets you alone.
You can gang back to your tippy wee baggage! Gang to hell, baith you an'
her, an' joy be wi' you baith! But I'll put a sprag in your wheel afore
you gang far. Mind that! By ---- I will! She'll nae toss her heid as she
gangs past me as if I was dirt. Her, an' her fine dresses that she never
payed for wi' money an' her fal-lals. By heaven! But you hae a fine
taste!" She finished up exasperated beyond all control by his coolness.
"Ay, it wad seem so," he laughed brutally. "When I look at you, I begin
to wonder what the hell I was lookin' at. You're like a damnationed big
lump o' creesh," and he laughed in her face, knowing this would rouse
her more than ever.


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