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"That's true," admitted Connie. "And of course in all the centuries, numbers of people have been there." "Considering the brisk trade in smuggling that was done in Jersey during the 1700's, I think the chances of finding anything in the Manor cave are very small," agreed her father. "There is one thing, though, we might look at." As he spoke, he rose and produced his keys.
Tell me, Merton, and do not be afraid to tell me if my suspicion is correct, is there anything in your past life you wished to keep from me and which is known to Fan, and might come to my knowledge through her?" "No, Connie, there is absolutely nothing in my past that I would hesitate to tell you.
Occasionally his gaze wandered from the page he was reading to his daughter's face. He was uneasy about her of late, and noted with apprehension the paleness of her cheeks and the absence of her cheery songs. "Connie," he kindly said, laying aside the book, "I'm afraid this life is not agreeing with you." "Why, father dear," she smilingly replied. "Do you think I look very sick?"
The air was full of bells, and the streets of undergraduates; a stream of young men taking fresh possession, as it were, of the grey city, which was their own as soon as they chose to come back to it. The Oxford damp, the Oxford mist, was everywhere, pierced by lamps, and window-lights, and the last red of a stormy sunset. Connie drew in her breath.
He fired at point-blank range and flashed over the boat as its front end exploded. Santos, firing from the rear, hit it again. Rip threw the rocket into a turn that rammed him against the top of his harness. He steadied on a line with the crippled Connie craft. It was hard hit. The bow jets flickered fitfully, and the stern tubes were dead. He sighted, fired.
He just started in again to make Bert McAlpin an Eagle Scout and when he had jammed Bert through all the stunts but two, Uncle Sam deliberately went into the war and Tom started off to work on a transport. So you see how it worked out; Connie Bennett, new leader of the Elks presently had an Eagle Scout in his patrol and Tom got himself torpedoed.
Who was it down the passage ran And shouted, 'Kiss me if you can! And hid her face when we began? 'Twas Connie. Who was it left with many a sigh, As to the farm we said good-bye, And wanted sheets wherein to cry? We all! The very best of things, however, must come some time to an end; schools were reopening, college terms recommencing, Mr.
It was seven o'clock in the evening when they got home; and after dining Merton lit a cigar and stretched himself out on the sofa of their sitting-room to recover from his fatigue. His wife was also too tired to do anything, and settled herself near him in the easy-chair. "Well, Connie," he said with a smile, "what is to be the outcome of the day's adventures?
He hadn't expected such a humane move, after his first meeting with the Connie cruiser when the commander had been willing to sacrifice his own men. This time, however, there was a difference, he saw. The commander would lose nothing by picking up the assault boat, and he would save a few men. Rip supposed that manpower meant something, even to Consops.
"Not at all! But I wish to develop my muscles. That's why I do Swedish exercises every morning. It's ridiculous how flabby girls are. There isn't a girl in my lecture I can't put down. If you like, I'll teach you my exercises," said Nora, her mouth full of tea-cake, and her expression half friendly, half patronising. Connie Bledlow did not immediately reply.
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