"Well, you haven't finished, y 'r anner," said Kernaghan.
"And in the north they think they are," continued the Young Doctor.
"I'd like to see those two as your eyes in front of your mind saw them,
Patsy."
"Aw, well then, you couldn't do it, Doctor dear, for you've niver been in
love. Shure, there's no heart till ye !" answered the Irishman, and
took another pinch of snuff with a flourish.
........................
Flamingo-like in her bright-coloured, figured gown, with a wild flower in
her hair and her gray curls dancing gently at her temples, a little old
lady trotted up and down the big sitting-room of Slow Down Ranch, talking
volubly and insistently. One ironically minded would have said she
chirruped, for her words came out in not unmusical, if staccato, notes,
and she shook her shrivelled, ringed fingers reprovingly at a stalwart
young man.
Once or twice, as she seemed to threaten him with what the poet called
"The slow, unmoving finger of scorn," he giggled.
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