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The sound of bells always produced in Bonaparte pleasurable sensations, which I could never account for. When we were at Malmaison, and walking in the alley leading to the plain of Ruel, how many times has the bell of the village church interrupted our most serious conversations!
There is a bell upon this table which has apparently escaped your notice. I sit with my finger upon the button so. I have only to press it, and the servants will be here. I do not wish to press it. I do not desire that you should be, as you certainly would be, banished from this house." He was immensely puzzled. She had not resented his strange intrusion.
Then, staring away from her into the little fire, I thought suddenly "Is not this the most despicable, the worst part of all infidelity, this deceit it must bring with it? The lies, either spoken or tacit, to which it gives birth?" There were only a few moments and then the bell called us to dinner.
He described to them how he had run along the road "for miles and miles and miles," how at last he had found the farm, had rung the bell, and inquired, and discovered Hamlet licking up sugary tea in the farm kitchen; there had then been a rapturous meeting, and he had boldly declared that he could find his way home again without aid.
In a word, in less than fifteen minutes after he climbed up into his berth to see what sort of a place it was, he had put it fully to the test of experiment, by going fast asleep in it. In about half an hour after this, Mr. George, coming to the end of a paragraph in his journal, laid down his pen, drew a long breath, looked out the window, and then rang the bell.
And the horn sounded faint and more faintly, and the convent bell drowned its expiring echoes." Hear what the Moon told me. "Some years ago, here in Copenhagen, I looked through the window of a mean little room. The father and mother slept, but the little son was not asleep. I saw the flowered cotton curtains of the bed move, and the child peep forth.
Well, I want to see you. I miss you too much. You arrived in Paris last night. Let me knew when you can come. I want you. Edith. The bell was rung violently. Orders were given, arrangements made, packing was done. Aylmer was suddenly quite well, quite happy. In a few hours he was in the midnight express due to arrive in London at six in the morning happy beyond expression.
The man had a paper; and, when people stopped at the sound of the bell, he read in a loud voice: "Lost! a little girl, four years old; curly brown hair, blue eyes; had on a white frock and green shoes; calls herself Poppy." He got no farther; for a little voice cried out of the dark, in a tone of surprise: "Why, dats me!"
Joyce lifted her radiant face, and looked towards the half opened window, as she caught the sound of chimes. Across the Loire came the deep-toned voice of a cathedral bell, ringing for vespers. "Listen!" she cried. "Peace on earth, good-will oh, Cousin Kate! It really does seem to say it! My Christmas has begun the day before."
Marsh was now convinced that his actions were under surveillance, and he next planned how to throw the man off. As he sat intent on this problem, he was startled to heap the bell boy say, "Here's the gentleman, sir," and looking up, Marsh saw Morgan standing in front of him.
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