( He knows, does Mr. Eames. Clever, honest, righteous lad. The pride and joy of every temple he's never visited, more devout than the first priest whose pockets he teased gaping and open, then gallantly eased of coin.
Why, you trust him right, trust him proper. Look him in the eye and know him for pristine and pure. )
Them, takin' ole Quicksilver's coin, trotting around like children with marbles. What good, eh? Aye, you see a gain from'em? You see result?
( Not Mr. Eames, he's still waiting, mind to the reeking from the incense they poured on him once. )
no subject
( He knows, does Mr. Eames. Clever, honest, righteous lad. The pride and joy of every temple he's never visited, more devout than the first priest whose pockets he teased gaping and open, then gallantly eased of coin.
Why, you trust him right, trust him proper. Look him in the eye and know him for pristine and pure. )
Them, takin' ole Quicksilver's coin, trotting around like children with marbles. What good, eh? Aye, you see a gain from'em? You see result?
( Not Mr. Eames, he's still waiting, mind to the reeking from the incense they poured on him once. )