human
The Guy! he thinks that no one can shoot but himself, sneered Bill Martin, as he turned to a train of blackguards who were lounging with him against the pales of the porter's lodge, as I, returned one evening to my mother's with my gun over my shoulder and a hare and a brace of pheasants in my hand.
gpt
I guess there be others who can shoot hares and pheasants, without the Squire's leave, as well as he. He fancies himself quite a gemman, with that fine gun over his shoulder, and the Squire's licence in his pocket.
human
Shoot and be ---- to you! says he,
gpt
I shall live to see you hung first! I cried, lowering the gun, while a sort of prophetic vision of the far-off future swam before my sight.
human
The company you keep, and the bad language you use, are certain indications of the road on which you are travelling. I have too much self-respect, to associate with a blackguard like you.
gpt
Dirty pride and self-conceit, should be the words you ought to use, quoth the impudent fellow.
human
My comrades are poor, but they arn't base-born sneaks like you.