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Could you have any proofs more conclusive?" Jernyngham flung her a swift glance. "You believed him once. You are very bitter now." "Yes," she said, "I have admitted that he is plausible; he deceived me. Perhaps that has made me more relentless; but I have lost my brother, and I loved him." Her father's face grew very stern, and he clenched his hand. "I have lost my son, and I wronged him."
He had lost Helena that was the price he had paid but he understood her now, and he was going to her to help her if he could, going to tell her that he, too, was changed as she was changed. His hands clenched suddenly. God, the misery, the hopelessness, the wreck and ruin that lay at his door! And amends what amends could he make it was too late for that!
Diana's heart contracted with a sudden fear. "Can't keep it?" she repeated dully. She could not picture her life no robbed of this friendship! "No." His hands hung clenched at his sides, and he stood staring at her from beneath bent brows, his mouth set in a straight line.
It is death itself I would cheat. What odds to exchange one form for another? Is there no way out of this? Is there no way, Sir Crispin?" he demanded with clenched hands. "The approach of death makes you maudlin, sir," quoth the other, in whom this pitiful show of fear produced a profound disgust. "Is there no way; say you?
Jean Valjean lay there pallid and motionless. Fauchelevent murmured in a voice as faint as a sigh: "He is dead!" And, drawing himself up, and folding his arms with such violence that his clenched fists came in contact with his shoulders, he cried: "And this is the way I save his life!" Then the poor man fell to sobbing.
He brought the clenched fist of his free hand down in two blows, rat-tat, on Michael's paws. And Michael, at the pain, relaxed both holds. The next instant he was thrust inside, snarling his indignation and rage as he vainly flung himself at the open bars, while Del Mar was locking the stout door. Next, the crate was carried out to an express wagon and loaded in along with a number of trunks.
Santerre, on being addressed by the sergeant, stalked into the front room to give the order; his altered face plainly shewed the strong passion which was at work within his heart. As he passed from one room to the other, he threw his cap upon the ground, and trampled on it; then clenched his fist, and bit his lip till the blood ran.
His thin, tanned face wore a grayish hue, and a white bandage was about his head. He breathed stentoriously. "We can only wait," said Dr. Hamilton, "and trust that there will be no complications." I clenched my fists involuntarily, but, speaking no word, turned and passed from the room. Downstairs in Dr. Hamilton's study was the man who had found Nayland Smith.
The torture stopped suddenly; and clenched, weeping eyes began to see again, while the barber applied cooling lotions which made Penrod smell like a coloured housemaid's ideal. "Now what," asked the barber, combing the reeking locks gently, "what would it make you so mad fer, to have somebody call you a little gentleman? It's a kind of compliment, as it were, you might say.
His young blood, whose unused vitality quivered in his clenched fists, his energy, which had not been spent on any work, groaned aloud. All at once Wolfgang cursed his life. Oh, he ought to be somewhere quite different, live at quite a different place, quite different. And even if he were not so comfortable there, let him only get away from this place, away. It bored him so terribly to be here.
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