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No, I did not beg; I had money enough. "Well, you'll have to go on farther. I've nothing for you to do here; the ploughing's done. Can you cut staves for a fence? "Yes." "H'm. Well, I don't use wooden fences any more. I've put up wire. Do bricklayer's work?" "Yes." "That's a pity. I've had bricklayers at work here for weeks; you might have got a job. But it's all done now."
Do you wish to enrich the already overstocked British Museum at my expense? But I do not mind revealing to you that I am now really on my way to Mohamera." "H'm," let out Ganz slowly. "My dear fellow, haven't you heard that there is a war in Europe?" "I must confess, my good Ganz, that I have. But what has Europe to do with Mohamera?" "God knows," said Ganz.
"H'm," said Miss Belcher; "and yet he couldn't have been following the man to murder him, or he must have taken more care to cover up his traces. All his concern seems to have been to follow Coffin without being seen by him. Is that all?" "My dear Lydia, consider the amount of time I've had! Almost before I'd finished with Bogue, and certainly before the filly was well rested, Mr.
The veil dropped from her fingers and she clasped her hands in anguish. "It shall end by her seeing him," she cried. Razumov raised his head sharply and attached on her a prolonged thoughtful glance. "H'm. That's very possible," he muttered in a peculiar tone, as if giving his opinion on a matter of fact. "I wonder what...." He checked himself. "That would be the end.
It was by the last post on the evening after this day that Warburton received a letter of which the exterior puzzled him. Whose could be this graceful, delicate hand? A woman's doubtless; yet he had no female correspondent, save those who wrote from St. Neots. The postmark was London. He opened, "Dear Mr. Warburton" a glance over the leaf showed him "Sincerely yours, Rosamund Elvan." H'm!
I've telephoned to the Intelligence Place, and I can't get a first-class cook down here at all. I shall have to send to the city for one, but, meantime what to do! What to do!" "H'm, and you've guests for luncheon!" "Yes, the whole Sayre tribe. The captain just CAN'T keep away from YOU! Patty, do you know you're a real belle? Everybody was crazy about you last night." "Fiddlesticks!
"Well, Squire, Tom was badly mauled and John was tired when I arrived as peacemaker. I stopped the battle, but he was not at all disposed to talk about it. I am sure of one thing he has had a grudge against Tom since he was rude to Leila." The Squire rose and walked about the room. "H'm! very strange that what a mere child he was when he got licked boys don't remember injuries that way."
"H'm," she observed, presently, "those game-dinners at the Pacific are still going on, aren't they? To-night's the thirty-eighth. Nice things, too, as I remember them. That's the way I learned to like venison. Here are some of the people to be there your Mrs. Bates among them." She looked across to her father. "Why didn't you go?"
'What stock has uncle lost this year, Cripplestraw? 'Well, let's see, sir. I can call to mind that we've lost three chickens, a tom-pigeon, and a weakly sucking-pig, one of a fare of ten. I can't think of no more, Maister Derriman. 'H'm, not a large quantity of cattle. The old rascal! 'No, 'tis not a large quantity. Old what did you say, sir? 'O nothing.
They must have some good reason which they will no doubt explain later." "You think so, do you?" the visitor demanded. "What makes you think there is a reason why they should go by without stopping?" "I have no idea at all," the young man replied. "I only said that perhaps they had a reason." "H'm, is that all you know about it? But I tell you there is a reason, and I'm going to find out.
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