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The other miracles I do not believe in. What for? They are so insignificant beside the works of Nature!" "He is a pagan," Kennedy again stated. They were chatting, when three young lads came into the tavern, all three having the air of artists, black clothes, soft hats, flowing cravats, long hair, and pipes. "Two of them are fellow-countrymen of yours," Kennedy told Caesar.
I remember a conversation with a young clergyman one Monday morning in the reading-room of a Young Men's Christian Association. It was in a certain mining town in the southwest, which is as full of evil resorts as such places usually are. The day before, Sunday, had been one of special services, and we had both been busy and were a bit weary. We were slowing down and chatting leisurely.
It is enough that before my guide released us we knew where was the box of Caesar, whom those about to die saluted, and where the box of the Vestals whose fatal thumbs gave the signal of life or death for the unsuccessful performer; where the wild beasts were kept, and where the Christians; where were the green-rooms of the gladiators, who waited chatting for their turn to go on and kill one another.
"Perhaps we'd better douse the glim, then?" Bob suggested. "Let it burn out," Frank remarked; "I don't believe there's much chance of anybody else seeing it now; because it's pretty low. Our tent shows up about as plain, come to think of it; but I don't mean to do without shelter." They sat there, chatting on various subjects, for some time.
Sunday morning, August 24, 1914, dawned brightly with no sign of the enemy. In Mons and the surrounding villages the workmen donned their usual holiday attire, women stood about their doors chatting, children played in the streets. Church bells rung as usual summoning to public worship. General French gathered his generals for an early conference.
They were chatting in low voices, and so far as Ken could make out, neither held his rifle. Roy pointed to the one nearest Ken. Ken nodded, and rose very quietly to his feet. The Turk firmly believes that certain places, bare hill-sides especially, are haunted by unpleasant bogies which he calls Djinns and Afrits.
The new salon that he entered, communicated with a smaller, circular one, hung with Japanese silk draperies, and lighted by a Venetian chandelier that cast a subdued light over the divans upon which some of the guests sat chatting. Sulpice immediately divined, as if by instinct, that Marianne was there.
Even chatting about horses, you felt it; you felt that there was a part of him which did not chat, but which sat behind and watched. And strangest of all, Montague found himself fancying that behind the face that smiled was another face, that did not smile, but that was grim and set.
It was very large, and full of hardware, harness, saddles, blankets everything that cowboys and ranchmen use. Several men, two in shirt-sleeves, were chatting near the door. They saw me come in, and then, for all that it meant to them, I might as well not have been in existence at all. So I sat down to wait, determined to take Western ways and things as I found them.
"Allah forbid," replied Giaffar; "I will myself encounter the wrath of this least of dogs may his grave he defiled." During this parley, their host, who had become more good-humoured in his cups, cast his eyes upon them. "What in the name of Shitan, are you chaps prating and chatting about?" inquired he. Giaffar, perceiving him in a more favourable mood, seized the occasion to speak.
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