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He saw the lover pulled ignominiously out of a duck pond and soused relentlessly into a watering trough, and laughed with Frank and called it some picture. He eyed a succession of "current events" long since gone stale out where the world moved swifter than here in the mountains, and he felt as though he had come once more into close touch with life.
And she continued to look at him fixedly all the time. 'Can you tell me where I shall find some dry things to put on? he asked. 'Did you dive into the pond for me? she asked. 'No, he answered. 'I walked in. But I went in overhead as well. There was silence for a moment. He hesitated. He very much wanted to go upstairs to get into dry clothing. But there was another desire in him.
This surprised me, because all the last consignment of gold fish had died, and there was nothing in the pond to look at. I told Bob about Godfrey and the letter to the Chancellor of the Exchequer. His reception of the news was even more disappointing than McNeice's was. He neither laughed, as I hoped, nor even scowled.
Lady Marayne, still in flight from that pause, went off at a tangent. "Poff, my dear," she said, "I've had a diving-board put at the deep end of the pond." The remark hung unanswered for a moment. The transition had been too quick for Benham's state of mind. "Do you swim, Mr. Prothero?" the lady asked, though a moment before she had determined that she would never ask him a question again.
Festing indicated two men moving about the waterside. They looked curiously stumpy with their legs buried in the snow. "I sent them to make a chain fast to the rocks. We'll shackle up the first logs we run down and make a lumber pond. A few may shoot across the top, but we'll see what must be done as we get on."
"Just dodging round, miss," he grunted. "Having a look at the little ducks in the pond." "You've been outside the theatre, and you've been waiting outside Niro's Club," she said accusingly. "Don't know it, miss," he said. "One theayter is as much like another one to me." "You must take your things off and let Mrs.
A two-masted sail-boat was riding at anchor, a little off from the shore, which Oscar regarded with wishful eye; but as it did not belong to Mr. Preston, and they could not reach it without going into the water, it was of no use to think of taking a sail. They now walked along the edge of the pond, some distance, and after wandering some time in the woods, they returned home by a circuitous route.
He even forgave the contractor for his attempt to drive a sharp bargain in his written contract, though he remembered Brady's embarrassment when his uncle pointed out the defects in his written agreement and hastily signed the corrected one made by John White. Bob could scarcely realize that it was little more than a week since the eventful Saturday afternoon he had spent fishing in the old pond.
The locality, to be exact, was the north side of Roach River, about half-way from the first pond to where the stream empties into Moosehead Lake. Near a deserted log hut, known as "McPheter's Camp," they had discovered signs of a bear his tracks, and the spot where he had lain down among the tall dead grasses.
The most remarkable of all his neighbours was Thoreau, who for a couple of years lived in a hut which he had built for himself on the shore of Walden Pond. If he had not written some things with a considerable charm of style, Thoreau might have been wisely neglected as one of the crazy.
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