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Dunsack's grimacing face, the immobile figure of his wife, the familiar sweep of the room, had been things of no more substance than a cloud between him and the only other reality existing. He had no memory, for instance, of having stopped to secure his hat, but he found it swinging characteristically in a hand.

There was a clock without a case, the weights being visible, and the pendulum swinging in air, and a coffee-mill fixed against the wall. A religious newspaper lay on the mantel-piece.

Four wives had this wise priest; they bore him many children: but, great as was his power with the Master of the World, it did not enable him to obtain for them a continuance of life beyond the second moon of their birth. All, save one, died while they were yet swinging in their cradles of willow-bark from the bough of the tree that one, a daughter, was spared to his entreaties and prayers.

She sat and smiled tenderly at the mere reminiscent thought. And then the glimpse of him as he got into the high phaeton at the station; and the moment when Lady Maria had exclaimed "There's Walderhurst," and he had come swinging with his leisurely step across the lawn.

A lank yellow-haired lad, with eyes red from weeping sat swinging his long legs from the car side, another car followed, heavily laden with Mike's sister's family, and a mourning yet envious group of acquaintances footed it in the rear.

With the close of Commencement Day, a deep sleep seemed to settle over Hillsover. Most of the Professors' families went off to enjoy themselves at the mountains or the sea-side, leaving their houses shut up. This gave the village a drowsy and deserted air. There were no boys playing balls on the Common, or swinging on the College fence; no look of life in the streets.

She walked with a swinging gait that was not graceful, but somehow attracted one. At the Place de la Concorde she took a carriage, and I stood there like a fool, moved by the strongest desire that had ever assailed me. "For about three weeks I thought only of her; and then her memory passed out of my mind. "Six months later I descried her in the Rue de la Paix again.

"Yes, wotcha do it for? How come? Wotcha do a Brodie for off'n that ship? I didn't see it myself, but pa says you come walloping down off'n the deck like a sack of potatoes." Sam uttered a sharp cry. He had remembered. "Where is she?" "Where's who?" "The liner." "She's off down the river, I guess. She was swinging round, the last I seen of her." "She's not gone?" "Sure she's gone.

I perceived, all of a sudden, without having noticed her coming into the room, a little creature seated on the back of the book, with one knee bent and one leg hanging down somewhat in the attitude of the amazons of Hyde Park or the Bois de Boulogne on horseback. She was so small that her swinging foot did not reach the table, over which the trail of her dress extended in a serpentine line.

She was handled magnificently, there was no doubt of that; and presently, with a graceful sweep, she came surging up alongside, with the water spouting up in a clear transparent sheet under her sharp bows, her yards swinging simultaneously to meet her change of course, her white canvas gleaming in the brilliant sunlight, six long nine-pounders grinning through her bulwarks, and her deck crowded with men, as fair, yet as evil, a sight of its kind as the eye of man ever rested upon.