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Out of earshot, and certainly out of sight of that skirmish, we were speeding at a great rate along a level, lonely road flanked by beet-fields and long lines of graceful elms that shook hands overhead, when: "HALT! WOHIN? WO GEHEN SIE?" rang suddenly out of the darkness as two figures jumped from behind a farmhouse and leveled their rifles at us.
Aunt Lavvy to live like that for thirty-three years and to be happy at the end. She wondered what happiness there could be in that dull surrender and acquiescence, that cold, meek love of God. "Kikerikueh! sie glaubten Es waere Hahnen geschrei." Everybody in the village knew you had been jilted. Mrs. Waugh and Miss Frewin knew it, and Mr. Horn, the grocer, and Mr. Oldshaw at the bank. And Mr.
The man became, once more, as keen as a gossip. "What cannon? When dey shoot him off?" "Can't tell," said his friend. "That's to be their signal." "I do not know," The conical hat wagged sagely. "I go find out." He pointed across the moonlit spaces. "Ofer dere iss your house. You can no more. Schlafen Sie wohl." The two men wrung each other's hands. "Shan't forget this, Wutz."
The German noticed that his eyes glowed, but the rest of him was all calm dignity. "We have met before," said the German, rising. "You are the Sikh with whom I spoke the other night the Sikh officer the squadron leader!" "Ja!" said Ranjoor Singh; and the one word startled the German so that he caught his breath. "Sie sprechen Deutsch?" "Ja wohl!"
Sitzen Sie sich. Verstehen Sie?" They understood, and showed that they did by obeying, though if looks could kill Frank would have been blasted by the venomous glance that the German leader shot at him. Only then did Frank permit himself to relax. He lowered his rifle with a sense of relief. "We've got them corralled now," he remarked to his comrades.
An old man like me, a stranger sehen Sie cannot do much. . . . Come this way. . . . Young hearts are unforgiving. . . ." I could see he was in utmost distress. . . . "The strength of life in them, the cruel strength of life. . . ." He mumbled, leading me round the house; I followed him, lost in dismal and angry conjectures. At the door of the drawing-room he barred my way.
It contains, like the same writer's description of the last appearance of Knox in the pulpit, one of the most living pieces of portraiture in our literature: 'When we cam to his chalmer, we fand him sitting in his chaire, teatching his young man that servit him in his chalmer a, b, ab; e, b, eb, etc. Efter salutation, Mr. Andro sayes, "I sie, sir, yie are nocht ydle."
His heart swelled; his tongue loosened; and words flitted from his lips that he had fancied he could never dare to utter. Yet Sië sought not to restrain him; her lips gave no smile; but her long bright eyes seemed to laugh with pleasure at his words of praise, and to return his gaze of passionate admiration with affectionate interest.
"Bel, come here!" Twinkles flashed in the eyes of the man when he repeated the order, while his voice grew more imperative as he stretched a lean, wiry hand toward the dog. The animal's eyes gleamed and his sensitive nose quivered, yet he lay quietly. "Belshazzar, kommen Sie hier!" The body of the dog arose on straightened legs and his muzzle dropped in the outstretched palm.
But when you shall hear from your good parents, we can further discuss our plans." Fraulein was at the door. Fraulein left the saal by the small door and Miriam felt her way to the schoolroom. The girls were gathering there ready for a walk. Some were in the hall and Fraulein's voice was giving instructions: "Machen Sie schnell, Miss Henderson," she called.
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