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And I hope you, lady, haven't been inconvenienced by a handkerchief. We could just as well have arranged for your comfort, too." "Madam," gasped E. Eliot, who was the first to be released to speech, "it is unimportant who I am. But do you know that this woman with me is Mrs. George Remington, the wife of the candidate for district attorney Mr. George Remington of Whitewater?
My aim is to encourage suffering wherever I see it, to create it where I can, to make sinners and thieves of honest people." "God bless my soul!" the lawyer gasped again. "I don't think you can be as bad as you think you are. What about Juliet Lundy?" Fire flashed in Wingrave's eyes. Again, at the mention of her name, he seemed almost to lose control of himself.
"Jed," she said, "Captain Hunniwell was just here with you; I saw him go. Tell me, what was he talking about?" Jed was confused. "Why why, Mrs. Ruth," he stammered, "he was just talkin' about about a note he'd been collectin', and and such." "Wasn't he speaking of his daughter and and my brother?" This time Jed actually gasped. Ruth drew a long breath. "I knew it," she said.
Nay, more, she heard her own words repeated, she heard Richard's passionate outburst of remorse described in language that brought his living face before her! She gasped for breath his face WAS before her!
I gasped and grabbed at the instrument board for support. Then I felt foolish as I realized that there was no change in the feel of the floor for all its transparency and that we were not falling. A short distance away we could see our flyer suspended in the air, held up by two long flexible rods or wires similar to those which had lifted us from our ship into our prison.
"Do you mean to say you can sing it so soon?" Ken gasped. "He ran away in the moonlight," Kirk murmured. "Away to sea. Would you, Ken?" "Not if I had a father like the Maestro, and a brother like you," said Ken, fitting the key to the door of Applegate Farm.
Well, no sooner does he 'ear his born name given him, than he turns as white as the Day of Judgment, stares at Mr. 'Take him down to my berth, says Mr. Sebright. ''Tis poor old Norrie Carthew, he says." "And what what sort of a gentleman was this Mr. Carthew?" I gasped.
More shells fell ahead in the street. Once in the darkness he fell flat over the body of a horse. There was a steady groaning from the ditch near by. But he got up and ran on, a strange figure with his flying hair and his German uniform. He was all but stabbed by René when he entered the little house. "Mademoiselle?" Henri gasped, holding René's bayonet away from his heaving chest.
"He's drowning now!" gasped Dan, as the head failed to bob up again into view. "Oh, Tom, we must save him!" "Wait!" said Reade, in a quivering voice. His eyes expressed uncertainty as to how he should act. "But he's drowning. You see, he hasn't come up again!" Dalzell insisted. "Drowning -in water shallow enough for small bushes to grow from the bottom?" demanded Reade. "Of course not!
Sunny slapped the strap smartly across old Peter's neck. That easy-going horse was not used to such treatment, and he broke into a trot. Jimmie began to shout and wave his arms. Then Peter broke into a gallop, taking great, long easy strides that seemed to cover miles of ground to Sunny's excited eyes. "You kind of bump!" he gasped, as the horse galloped on. "I wonder will I fall off!"
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