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"Well," said he, "I'll just give you a caution. Take care, or they'll make a clean sweep. Has Mrs Trotter shown you her ankle yet?" "Yes," I replied, "and a very pretty one it is." "Ah! she's at her old tricks. You had much better have joined our mess at once. You're not the first greenhorn that they have plucked. Well," said he, as he walked away, "keep the key of your own chest that's all."
Clearly it was the hat that made the woman, and not the woman the hat. She had no preconception of it; it simply happened to her, like any accident as if she had fallen and sprained her ankle. Some people may say that she had in her a concealed propensity for frivolity; but the hat cannot escape the moral responsibility of calling it out if it really existed.
Whatever he had feared, the obscurity and continued quiet of LES TROIS PIGEONS reassured him; he felt more and more secure in this sheltered retreat, "far out of the world," and obviously thought no danger imminent. So the days went by, uneventful for my new friends, days of warm idleness for me. Let them go unnarrated; we pass to the event. My ankle had taken its wonted time to recover.
Bud saw the sweat start on his skin as he tried to pull the injured foot towards him. "S'pose I do it?" the boy suggested. "You've not got the nerve, Bud. Why, you're yaller as cheese, you poor little cuss." "I'm not," said the boy, flushing suddenly. He took the knife and began to cut the tough leather: a delicate operation, for Jeff's leg from knee to ankle was terribly swollen.
The doctor came and examined my heart. Then he examined my lame foot. It had a long blue bruise above the ankle, where they had knocked me as they took me across the night before. He asked me what caused' the bruise. I said, "Those fiends when they dragged me to the cell last night." It was paining me. He asked if I wanted liniment and I said only hot water.
"I don't; Sylvia Courtney tried it on with me when we were saying good-bye at the end of last term, but I jolly soon choked her off. Can't think where the pleasure is supposed to come in." Jimmy Kinsella placed the spy lady in the stern of Flanagan's boat and handed in her companion. He arranged the oars and the rowlocks and then, standing ankle deep in the water, shoved her off.
Returning to the patient, he skillfully spread the poultice on several of the larger leaves, laid them over and around the swollen ankle, and then, as gently as a mother with her babe, drew the stocking over it, so as to hold the poultice in place. Deerfoot leaned back, resting his body on his elbows, and heaved a long, grateful sigh. The relief was bliss itself.
In the Russian version the renowned editor of the Moscow Gazette is seen hobbling along with a cannon-ball labelled "Police Surveillance" at his ankle, and carrying by the hair his own head, which is so drawn as to bear a grotesque likeness to an inkstand with a pen in each ear.
Matthew Stacy look about her when Margaret came out in force, such as marked the dashing lady who descended from that cab, just lifting her dress enough to reveal glimpses of a high-heeled boot, and an ankle that Matthew Stacy recognized in an instant, for nothing so trim and dainty had ever helped make a footprint in his matrimonial path, you may be sure.
Sandford was enquiring for you. I think you received quite your share of attention, for so young a lady, for my part." "Daisy had more than anybody else, yesterday," remarked Eloise. "A sprained or a broken ankle is a very good thing occasionally," said Mr. Randolph. "Yes," said Mrs. Gary "I think Daisy had quite the best time of anybody yesterday.
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