United States or Kiribati ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Are you sure you didn't make most of it up?" Young Doc knew well Missy's strain of romanticism. But she strove to convince him that, for once, she was by way of being a realist. "She despises him. She can't bear to go on with it. She can't stand it another hour. I heard her say so myself." Young Doc, crunching her shoulder bones worse than ever, breathed hard, but said nothing.
If she could only fool him another hour just one more hour. It was less than that half an hour after she had finished the dunnage sack when they heard footsteps crunching outside and then a knock at the door. Wapi answered with a snarl, and when Dolores opened the door and Blake entered, his eyes fell first of all on the dog.
But after the chill came a fever, and with the fever came dreams, most disturbing dreams, in which were sounds of crunching gravel, then far-away voices voices that I seemed to have heard in another world. A door was opened, and then oh! how can I ever tell you in the hall came Faye's mother!
The sound of the distant choppers soon died away, and he was alone in the unearthly silence. The sun, not yet risen quite clear of the hilltops, sent spectral, level, far-reaching gleams of thin pink-and-saffron light down the alleys of the sheeted trees. The low crunching of his snowshoes on the crisp snow sounded almost blatant in the Boy's tensely listening ears.
Someone moved, his feet making a crunching noise in the cinders. The sergeant's voice snarled out: "You men are at attention. Quit yer wrigglin' there, you!" The men nearest the offender looked at him out of the corners of their eyes. Two officers, far out on the parade ground, were coming towards them.
I should like to have them share ours. Wouldn't you, Clover?" "Yes, indeed. I was just going to propose it." So Clover cut twenty-nine squares of white paper, Rose and Katy sorted and divided, and pretty soon ginger-snaps and almonds and sugar-plums were walking down all the entries, and a gladsome crunching showed that the girls had found pleasant employment.
He was working towards the eaves over-lapping the door. Their breath tightened. They waited for the explosion of his gun. None came. The crunching began again: it was heard down by the very edge of the eaves. It mounted to the blunt ridge overhead; then it ceased. "He will not have seen aught," David Faed muttered. "Listen, you. Listen by the door again." They talked in whispers.
And there was that profoundly strange feed box, imperturbable with its burden of fantastic mystery. Suddenly from down near her feet the girl heard a crunching sound, a sort of a nibbling, as if some silent and very discreet terrier was at work upon the turf. She faltered back; here was no doubt another grotesque detail of this most unnatural episode.
In order to take out the charm from him, the Bakatla on the following day made a huge bonfire over the carcass, which was declared to be that of the largest lion they had ever seen. Besides crunching the bone into splinters, he left eleven teeth wounds on the upper part of my arm. It was a long time in healing.
A girl with soft, thick, blue-black hair was bending over a rosebush. She was snipping dead shoots with a pair of scissors. At the sound of their feet crunching the gravel of the walk, her slender figure straightened and she turned to them. The ripe lips parted above pearly teeth in a smile of welcome to the camera man. "I've come begging again, Miss Ruth," explained Farrar. "This is Mr.
Word Of The Day