'_That_ for the curse!' I cried, snapping my fingers. '_I_ am
Henry, and I am come to share the curse, if there is one.'
'Young man,' interposed the landlord, 'such blas-pheemous langige as
that must not be spoke here; I ain't a-goin' to have _my_ good beer
turned to vinegar by blasphemin' them as owns the thunder, I can tell
you.'
But the effect of my words upon the Gypsy was that of a spark in a
powder-mine.
'Henry?' she said, 'Henry? are _you_ the fine rei as she used to talk
about? Are you the fine cripple as she was so fond on? Yes, Beng te
tassa mandi if you ain't Henry his very self.'
'Don't,' remonstrated the landlord, 'don't meddle with the gentleman,
Sinfi. He ain't a cripple, as you can see.'
'Well, cripple or no cripple, he's _Henry_. I half thought it as soon
as he began askin' about her. Now, my fine Gorgio, what do you and
your fine feyther mean by cussin' Winnie Wynne? You've jist about
broke her heart among ye. If you want to cuss you'd better cuss me;'
and she sprang up in an attitude that showed me at once that she was
a skilled boxer.
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