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He did not ring for a servant. That I noticed. Instead he groped about for a key, unlocked the door and stumbled into a room. He fumbled for a minute among some glasses. "Will you switch on a light?" he asked. Hobart struck a match; when he found it he pressed the switch.
Petullo, flushed a little to her great becoming in spite of a curl-paper or two, and clad in a lilac-coloured negligee of the charmingest, came into the office with a well-acted start of surprise to find a client there. "Oh, good morning! Mr. MacTaggart," she exclaimed, radiantly, while her husband scowled to himself, as he relapsed into the chair at his desk and fumbled with his papers.
"Where is this strike?" he asked casually. "Is it on land that has been parceled out to the colonists?" "I don't know whose land it's on. But I'm telling you this! It's going to make someone the richest man in the Solar Alliance!" Sykes fumbled in his pouch again and this time brought out a dirty piece of paper. "This is a report giving the location and an assay estimate.
He did a dozen things wrongly, but he neither fumbled, nor hammered his fingers, nor wounded them with the chisel which was Humility's husband's way. At the end of four days of strenuous effort, they had their first pew built. The triumph was, the seat could be sat upon without risk. Mr.
He stood and fumbled with his collar-stud, which he could not unfasten at once, and, while he was busied thus, the mists that blinded him fell away. He ceased, abruptly, to be the mere automaton that had moved and acted, without will of its own, for the past four-and-twenty hours. Standing there, with his fingers at his neck, he was pierced by a sudden lucid perception of what had happened.
Here George turned to look at me, and, looking, dropped his eyes and fumbled with his hands, while up under his tanned skin there crept a painful, burning crimson. "Peter!" said he. "Yes, George?" "I got summ'at more to tell 'ee summ'at as I never meant to tell to a soul; when you was down lyin' at my feet " "Yes, George?" "I I kicked 'ee once!" "Did you, George?"
Flanders wrote on the envelope, and dashed a bold line beneath; it was her native town; the hub of the universe. But a stamp? She ferreted in her bag; then held it up mouth downwards; then fumbled in her lap, all so vigorously that Charles Steele in the Panama hat suspended his paint-brush. Like the antennae of some irritable insect it positively trembled.
As I stood in the dark shadow of the tunnel's end racking my brain for a feasible plan the while I watched, catlike, the old man's every move, he took up the money-pouch and crossed to one end of the apartment, where, bending to his knees, he fumbled with a panel in the wall.
He listened at the threshold for a breath: no sound came to him; the fire was all out, the air was the air of a dungeon. "Nan!" he called timidly. He got no reply. Timidly now he stepped into that chamber that had been sacred to him before the holy of holies and fumbled with a steel. The sparks showed him his hands trembling, but at first he did not dare to look behind him for fears intangible.
She slid to the floor and gasped: "Don't touch me!" "Why, what's the matter, honey?" "Huh! What isn't the matter?" He fumbled under the pillow for his watch, looked at it, yawned: "Lord, it's only five o'clock. Good night!" He disposed himself for sleep again. The parrot broke out in another horrible Ha-ha! He sat up with an oath. "I'd like to murder the beast." "Don't! I'm much obliged to it."
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