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She panted and fought and choked, striving for speech. "Keep your hair on!" advised W. Keyse in a hoarse whisper. She turned on him like a tigress, her eyes flaming under her straightened fringe. "Keep yours! I've come to speak, and speak I mean to for the sake of the best man Gawd's made for a 'undred years. Bar one, you says, but bar none, says I, an' charnce it!

"Are you dead? are you dead?" he gasped, kneeling beside Garvington, and placed his hand on the senseless man's heart. It still beat feebly, so he arose with a sigh of relief. "He's only stunned," panted Silver, and staggered unsteadily to the table to seize a glass of brandy. "I'll, ah ah ah!" he shrieked and dropped the tumbler as a loud and continuous knocking came to the front door.

"Ugh!" he panted, as he clung, trembling now violently. "I wonder how deep the water is just there! How horrible! I say, don't let go of my hand. What are you doing?" "I'm feeling for the lanthorn." "What!" cried the midshipman, aghast. "Don't say you've lost that?"

Inserting this in a socket, as one familiar with the trick, he put his weight upon it; a carved sandstone slab slid back silently, disclosing a black cavernous opening. "In with you," panted Labertouche, removing the lever. "Don't delay...." Amber did not.

"We'll shake 'em off now," I panted. Harry nodded. A short distance ahead we came to another cross-passage, and turned to the left. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that our pursuers had not yet reached the first turn. Harry kept in the lead, and was giving me all I could do to keep up with him.

When Euchre came around the corner of the cabin Duane was not so astounded as he was concerned to see the outlaw white and shaking. Sweat dripped from him. He had a wild look. "Luck ours so-fur, Buck!" he panted. "You don't look it," replied Duane. "I'm turrible sick. Jest killed a man. Fust one I ever killed!" "Who?" asked Duane, startled. "Jackrabbit Benson. An' sick as I am, I'm gloryin' in it.

She was fleet, and eluded him down the lane, across the cut field, to a huge square stack of baled alfalfa. But he caught her just as she got behind its welcome covert. Lenore was far less afraid of him than of laughing eyes. Breathless, she backed up against the stack. "You're a cannibal!" she panted. But she did not make much resistance. "You're a goddess!" he replied. "Me!... Of what?"

He stopped and panted as he fought down his emotions and the automobile sped smoothly on. It was eight or ten miles across the level desert and a few minutes would bring them into town. "You don't know my ways," he went on bluffly, "but say, you don't need to be afraid. Just slow down a little, I want to talk with you you're the finest girl I know. I want you, don't you see?

The soul of Héloïse panted for a greater intellectual freedom and a deeper sympathy than these priests could give. She pined in society. She was isolated by her own superiority, superior not merely in the radiance of the soul, but in the treasures of the mind. Nor could her companions comprehend her greatness, even while they were fascinated by her presence.

We lifted them out, and making a chair of our hands and wrists, carried them up to Vellingey; leaving the others in the boat, now for an hour well above reach of the tide. And here I must tell of something that happened on the way: the first sign of Obed's madness, as I may call it. All of a sudden he stopped and panted, from the weight of our load, I supposed.