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Scarcely had the word "wife" escaped his lips than I visited the cheek of the poor fellow with a tremendous smack, and in my rage kicked him downstairs, the bottom of which he reached in four springs, to the imminent risk of his neck.
Louis envied the condition of the unconscious sleeper, who lay in happy forgetfulness of all her sorrows, her fair curls spread in unbound luxuriance over the dark shaggy neck of the faithful Wolfe, who seemed as if proud of the beloved burden that rested so trustingly upon him.
It was only within a few minutes of the end, when the story was dragged in neck and crop, that the reality of the thing vanished, and the interest with it. If an abstract theme be not an advisable starting-point, what is? A character? A situation? Or a story?
Not a muscle of Pluma Hurlhurst's face quivered, but the woman uttered a low cry, shrinking close to her side. "Save me, Pluma!" she gasped. "I did it for your sake!" Basil Hurlhurst slowly put back the curtain, and stepped into the room, clasping his long-lost daughter to his breast. Daisy's arms were clinging round his neck, and her golden head rested on his shoulder.
It was evident that with her there was no difference since the time she had last seen Caius; it appeared that she did not even purpose stopping her horse. Caius stopped it gently, laying his hand upon its neck. "What is it?" she asked, with evident curiosity, for the face that he turned to her made her aware that there was something new in her quiet life.
Sez he, cranin' his neck round to see the bow hangin' down his back, "Our old forefathers went through worse trials than this when they eat their cartridge boxes and friz themselves at Valley Forge," and he fingered some of them bows and ornaments on his breast agin with a vain, conceited smirk of satisfaction.
Oh, indeed, it would be worth while to hear my history; but I do not speak it aloud, for a good reason because I cannot." Then the bottle neck related his history, which was really rather remarkable; he, in fact, related it to himself, or, at least, thought it in his own mind.
On the red shield above his head the gilt sheaf of thunderbolts darting between the initials of his name seemed to be aimed straight at the nape of his neck as he sat with bared elbows spread on the table, poring over the crumpled sheets. The letter began: Hassim and Immada are going out to-night to look for you. You are behind your time and every passing day makes things worse.
Then I realized that, very gently, she was trying to disengage her arms, and I loosened my grip upon them so that she could do so. Slowly they came up and stole about my neck, and then she drew my lips down to hers once more and held them there for a long time. At last she spoke. "Why didn't you do this at first, David? I have been waiting so long." "What!" I cried. "You said that you hated me!"
Here have we gained a victory unparalleled in history, and your behaviour is praised by every living mortal to the skies, and the Prince is eager to thank you in person, and all our beauties of the White Rose are pulling caps for you; and you, the preux chevalier of the day, are stooping on your horse's neck like a butter-woman riding to market, and looking as black as a funeral!
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