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"What are you laughing at, Casey Ryan?" she demanded. "If it's funny, tell me." Casey blushed, though she couldn't have seen him in the dusky light of the cabin. "Aw, it ain't anything much," he protested bashfully. "I just happened to think about a little ol' Frenchman I knowed once, over in Cripple Creek, ma'am." He stopped. "Well? Tell me about the little ol' Frenchman.
WE lived in a deep basement, in a large, dusky room that we shared with three other families, each family occupying one of the corners and as much space as it was able to wrest. Violent quarrels were a commonplace occurrence, and the question of floor space a staple bone of contention. The huge brick oven in which the four housewives cooked dinner was another prolific source of strife.
The Castle seemed to sleep. A hushed silence lay over all. Everywhere lights were dim, staircases wound down into emptiness, corridors stretched away into dusky solitude. Now and then an attendant in evening dress tiptoed past us or an officer vanished round a corner, noiselessly save for a faint clink of spurs.
The position of Deerfoot was such that he had a view of the face of the Sauk, and it took him but a moment to understand the meaning of the action, or, rather, want of action on the part of his dusky friend.
We'll have our high tea at the Saracen's Head. As they descended, they heard the Minster bells playing a hymn, when the hour had struck six. Glory to thee my God this night For all the blessings of the light So, to Ursula's ear, the tune fell out, drop by drop, from the unseen sky on to the dusky town. It was like dim, bygone centuries sounding. It was all so far off.
That Rodney was angry with her and had made this opportunity for speaking to her, Katharine knew very well; she was neither glad nor sorry that the time had come, nor, indeed, knew what to expect, and thus remained silent. The carriage grew smaller and smaller upon the dusky road, and still Rodney did not speak.
"The devil is always attractive," replied Bastin gloomily. "Child of Nature indeed! I call her Child of Sin. That photograph is enough to make my poor Sarah turn in her grave." "Why?" asked Bickley; "seeing that wide seas roll between you and this dusky Venus. Also I thought that according to your Hebrew legend sin came in with bark garments."
His small, malicious eyes looked out morosely from beneath the heavy, apparently swollen eyelids. His black hair, worn without powder, rose up stiff as a brush above his heavy, wrinkled forehead. From the corner of the portrait hung a dusky wreath of immortelles. "Glafira Petrovna deigned to weave it herself," observed Anthony.
"Not a thing," replied Blacky. "On my honor, not a thing. There is nothing for me here, though there seems to be plenty for you and your relatives, to judge by the fact that I find you in this same place every morning. What is it?" "Corn," replied Dusky in a low voice, as if afraid some one might overhear him. "Nice yellow corn." "Corn!" exclaimed Blacky, as if very much astonished.
But the Frenchman was gone. Near them was a mass of shrubbery and he believed that he had flitted into it, as silently as the passing of a shadow. But the sentinel had caught a glimpse of the dusky figure, and he cried: "Who was he? What is it?" "A spy!" replied Robert hastily. "A Frenchman whom I have seen in Canada! I think he sprang into those bushes and flowers!"
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