"This writin" is hers," he said, with a curious accent of pride, "and her hair is as long as this all over her head—and wavy."
Doc was the only person still talking and people were again looking at them disapprovingly. All five wallboards were lit up and the changed position of a few pieces showed that opening moves had been made on four of them, including the Machine"s. The central space between the tiers of seats was completely clear now, except for one man hurrying across it in their direction with the rapid yet quiet, almost tip-toe walk that seemed to mark all the officials. Like morticians" assistants, she thought. He rapidly mounted the stairs and halted at the top to look around searchingly. His gaze lighted on their table, his eyebrows went up, and he made a beeline for Doc. Sandra wondered if she should warn him that he was about to be shushed.
I could see it all clearly: that scoundrel, Allan Knock, set on by Creach, had been on our track ever since we left Skye, and knowing of our return from the ship through his spies, had thought to have taken me, or both of us, at Crowlin; the rest was plain from Neil"s story, and it was only through the mistake of the English captain that my father had closed his eyes in my arms.
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When dawn came and lamps grew dim, A-bra-ham Lin-coln’s pulse be-gan to fail. Soon a calm look of peace came up-on his worn face and he was gone.
In the East, in the Spring of ’63, Hoo-ker fought the “Chan-cel-lors-ville Cam-paign” and lost. Then, on May 6th, he re-crossed the Rap-pa-han-nock.
That I could well believe, for there is something commanding in his personality, something well calculated to quell insolence.
"At other times, it borders on disgust. Now, if you"ll run the Note through for signature, I"ll try to catch the six o"clock shuttle."
"I believe I owe him that debt," he said, smiling; "and no doubt I shall be expected to remember it when he wants leave out of his turn."
“What are they like, these Manchester people?” Bauer asked me one afternoon before he was to play in England’s musical metropolis.
Years agone, Blake’s Woods had been a favourite outing ground for Midwestburg’s workers. The coming of the interurban trolley, which brought Boone Lake Beach within half an hour of the city, had turned these woods into a dead loss as far as local pleasure seekers were concerned. The benches had been split up or stolen or had rotted. The trim central patch of green sward had been left to grow successive unmown harvests of ragweed.详情 ➢
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