[The Romany Rye by George Borrow]@TWC D-Link bookThe Romany Rye CHAPTER XLV 7/10
So I told him I had no money to play with, but the ould thief knew better; he knew that I was every day winning money from the scholars, and the sub-rector, and the other people of the house, and the ould thief had determined to let me go on in that way winning money, and then by means of his tricks, which he thought I dare not resent, to win from me all my earnings--in a word, Shorsha, to let me fill myself like a sponge, and then squeeze me for his own advantage.
So he made me play with him, and in less than three days came on the quarrel; his reverence chated me, and I chated his reverence; the ould thaif knew every trick that I knew, and one or two more; but in daling out the cards I nicked his reverence; scarcely a trump did I ever give him, Shorsha, and won his money purty freely.
Och, it was a purty quarrel! All the delicate names in the 'Newgate Calendar,' if ye ever heard of such a book; all the hang-dog names in the Newgate histories, and the lives of Irish rogues, did we call each other--his reverence and I! Suddenly, however, putting out his hand, he seized the cards, saying, 'I will examine these cards, ye cheating scoundrel! for I believe there are dirty marks on them, which ye have made in order to know the winning cards.' 'Give me back my pack,' said I, 'or m'anam on Dioul if I be not the death of ye!' His reverence, however, clapped the cards into his pocket, and made the best of his way to the door, I hanging upon him.
He was a gross, fat man, but like most fat men, deadly strong, so he forced his way to the door, and, opening it, flung himself out, with me still holding on him like a terrier dog on a big fat pig; then he shouts for help, and in a little time I was secured and thrust into a lock-up room, where I was left to myself.
Here was a purty alteration.
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