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"Yes; you win this time," said he grudgingly, removing his hand from his stake, but dropping the money which he clutched in his fist at the same time. With fatherly kindness Shanklin admonished him to hold on to his money, and helped him pick it up.
The dwarf, rather under the influence of the sparkling wine he had taken, rested his elbows on the table, and with his cheeks clutched in his bony fingers, and his eyes starting from his head with his concentrated efforts to speak with becoming seriousness, he cried as if he were publishing a proclamation
"They've nearly cleared the track between here and Woodvale, but the Lord only knows when a train can get through from Oak Cliff." "No train from Oak Cliff since the storm?" I asked. "Well, I should guess not!" he gruffly laughed. "Oak Cliff's wiped off the map." Miss Harding clutched my arm. There was startled agony in her eyes, her lips trembled but she bore the shock bravely.
As the keen tongues of flame shot over the treetops, the woman clutched at her senses, and tried to persuade herself that it was the barn, not the house, that was burning. It was, in truth, quite impossible to discern, at that distance, which it was. It was not both; of that she was certain.
He staggered to his feet with a terror-stricken cry, stumbled down the aisle, through the front door, and out into the night. Reaching the road, he turned his face again to the hill where his wagon lay hid. If he could reach that, he would be safe; nobody would suspect him. He clutched the whiskey-horn tight and broke into a run.
But she was sliding towards him again, and again she clutched his arm. "No, no," she whispered. "Let's wait just a little longer, Bill. I I don't feel quite comfortable in that room. I wonder if they'd give me a new room to-morrow? It's funny, I'm not a bit frightened at what they call the haunted room here the room that's next to Aunt Blanche's, in the other wing of the house.
You see I know you" as the stout man turned pale and clutched at the side of the seat. "Who are you?" he demanded hoarsely. "Detective Green!" The claimant lost all his braggadocio air, and stared at the detective with a terrified look. "That isn't my name," he managed to ejaculate. "Very likely not," said the detective calmly, "but it is one of your names.
With the gathering shades of night our plight became pitiful. In the daylight, surrounded by homely, familiar sights and sounds, it was not so difficult to fortify our souls with a cheering incredulity. But now, in this time of shadows, dread belief clutched us and wrung us with terror.
"Oh," commented Robbie Belle repentantly, "I didn't think. I'd love to pay for all of you, only I haven't any money either." Berta clutched at her heart and bent double in a bow of gratitude unspeakable. Robbie Belle continued to stare at her thoughtfully. "If you truly want to, Berta, we might save up and go to the opera some other day. I'm willing." "Willing! Dear child! Willing!
His outcry had brought up Cousin Maud, and when she opened the door behind him and saw a man standing in my way, she clutched him from behind, throwing her arms about him, and dragged him out of the chamber. Meanwhile she shrieked aloud "Fire!" and "Murder!" and again "Fire!" and all the men and wenches ran up in hot haste and had the gold-maker down the stairs fast enough.
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