I don't mind telling YOU," says Bucket with an engaging appearance of frankness, "that as far as I can understand it, there seems to be a doubt whether this dead person wasn't entitled to a little property, and whether this female hasn't been up to some games respecting that property, don't you see?
Now, what YOU want," pursues Bucket, again tapping Mr.
Bucket, shaking hands with him quite affectionately.
says Bucket in friendly converse as they descend the stairs.
Bucket notices things in general, with a face as unchanging as the great mourning ring on his little finger or the brooch, composed of not much diamond and a good deal of setting, which he wears in his shirt.
Bucket stops for a moment at the corner and takes a lighted bull's-eye from the constable on duty there, who then accompanies him with his own particular bull's-eye at his waist.
Snagsby," says Bucket as a kind of shabby palanquin is borne towards them, surrounded by a noisy crowd.
Bucket coolly asks as he turns his bull's-eye on a line of stinking ruins.
Bucket, opening another door and glaring in with his bull's-eye.
Bucket, turning his head in the direction of the unconscious figures on the ground.
Why, you an't such an unnatural woman, I hope," returns Bucket sternly, "as to wish your own child dead?
Again I ordered the shrimp-catchers to lend a hand with the buckets.
But the Chinese scrambled madly into the cockpit and fell to bailing with buckets, pots, pans, and everything they could lay hands on.