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But listen to me; I know Max Ingolby that you think is such a villain; I know him well. I knew him when he was a little boy and " "You was his nurse, I suppose!" cried the Englishman's voice amid a roar of laughter. "Taught him his A-B-C-was his dear, kind teacher, eh?" hilariously cried another. The old man appeared not to hear. "I have known him all the years since.
We raided the classroom for rugs and cushions and with the collection made down beds in a half ring around the crackling flames. On each we put a baby, feet fireward. As I closed the door of the emergency nursery, I looked back to see a semi-circle of pink heels waving hilariously.
The brisk breeze flirted the tails of the frock-coat and the trousers legs tried out a modest little gig as if some of the jocose spirit of the old gentleman had remained with the garments he had discarded. There were several passers before another half-hour had elapsed. The trousers kicked out quite hilariously when a young couple drove by in a buggy.
He passed the back of his hand across his eyes and continued more cheerfully, hilariously almost: "But away with an old man's memories! I was young then, and ardent as you. Nay, as I look upon you I see my very self reflected across a score of sorrowful years. We are extraordinarily alike, Tristram. Stand up and measure with me, back to back." They did so.
"Bless Gawd! hyar's Whitefoot's muzzle jes' ez nat'ral an' Me waal, sir! don't I look proud!" he cried suddenly, with a note of such succulent vanity, so finely flavored a pride, that the stranger could but laugh at the zest of his triumph. "Do you see the witch-face?" he demanded. "Hesh! hesh!" cried the mountaineer hilariously. "Don't 'sturb me 'bout yer witch-face.
The cinders passed. We re-entered our silent tomb. There had been no sign of our many neighbours of the night before, but suddenly we heard some dreadful moans, the tentative efforts of a body surprised by pain, and these sounds shaped, hilariously lachrymose, into a steam hooter playing "Auld Lang Syne," and then "Home, Sweet Home."
The old man looked at him blindly, not recognising his son at first. But afterwards he smiled, went up the steps, and gave his cheek to be kissed. It smelt of wax. "Eh?" said the old man. Ilya kissed him, laughed hilariously, and slapped him lightly on the shoulder: "It is a long time since we met, father. How are you?"
Half-way over the clearing he stopped with a cry of pain, and the herald's mission was forgotten in the search for a thorn. The picture of Stacy Shunk balancing on one foot while he nursed the other in his hands made the Professor laugh hilariously and he called to him to hurry. But Stacy would come no farther.
"But who is she?" broke out Grace excitedly, as soon as she could catch her breath. "And where is she can't we see her?" put in Veath, slapping Hugh insanely on the back. "She's a goddess!" burst out Hugh, grabbing his cap and running out of the room, shouting hilariously: "Follow on, both of you, to the hotel, and see me worship at her shrine!" Hugh lost no time on the way back to the hotel.
"Bless us and save us!" she added, as a sudden roar of voices sounded outside the cot and the throaty rattle of a motor engine. "Whom have we here?" She went to the door and flung it open. Ruth hesitated at the chair in which she had been about to be seated. Outside she saw bunched several uniformed men. They were hilariously pushing into the cottage, thrusting the excited Mother Gervaise aside.
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