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But he smiled and chatted on, casually, with the air-officer, who ate as though half starved. "I suppose," said Wayland, "you’ll start back across the Channel as soon as you secure petrol enough?" "Yes, of course." "You could go by way of Quimper or by Lorient. There’s petrol to be had at both places for military purposes" leisurely continuing to rip the big squares of canvas from the frames.
“Surest thing you know,” Dicky said cheerfully. “She won’t take a dare. You ought to see her playing stumps. There’s nothing a boy can do that she won’t do. And have you noticed how she can spin a top—the best I ever saw for a girl.” Then boys liked girls to be tom-boys. This was a great surprise. “How does it happen that she doesn’t go to school often?” Dicky grinned. “Hooking jack!”
If you haven’t done so, please get your papa to make you a soldier hat. Well, finally Bawly’s hat was finished, and he put a feather in it, just as Yankee Doodle did, only Bawly didn’t look like macaroni. “Now, I’ll go out and see if I can find the boys and we’ll pretend there’s a war, and a battle, and shooting and all that,” went on the frog chap, who loved to do exciting things.
And her mother said to her teacher,—there in Dresden: ’She will be the greatest soprano, won’t she?’ And he said: ’Madame, she has only that one chance—to be the greatest.’" Jack laughed. "But why ’Lorne’?" he asked suddenly. "Why not ’Burnett,’ since she’s your uncle’s child?" "Oh, that’s straight enough; there’s a hyphen there. My uncle died and my aunt married a title.
"Very sad thoughts," she confessed—hiding her face again. "Did you care?" "Yes, I cared." He stood beside her for a long time without speaking or moving. Then he suddenly pulled a chair forward, and sat down close in front of her. "Don’t cry," he said, almost daring to be tender. "There’s nothing to cry about now, you know."
A time will come, and that speedily, when folks will give up everything else, and follow dog-fighting.’ ‘Do you think so?’ said I. ‘Think so? Let me ask what there is that a man wouldn’t give up for it?’ ‘Why,’ said I modestly, ‘there’s religion.’ ‘Religion! How you talk. Why, there’s myself, bred and born an Independent, and intended to be a preacher, didn’t I give up religion for dog-fighting?
There’s nothin’ to be afrightened of.” “Stand back!” she cried; “don’t come near me!” Moggridge was too staggered at this outburst to say a word. “Stand away!” she said, and the bewildered attendant stood away. She turned to Mr Beveridge. “Now, will you help me up?”
Not very far; over those mountains to the left, and the run of salt water that lies behind them, there’s Ireland. Tinker. It’s a fine thing to be a scholar. Myself. Not half so fine as to be a tinker. Tinker. How you talk! Myself. Nothing but the truth; what can be better than to be one’s own master? Now a tinker is his own master, a scholar is not.
Ivan looked at him speechless. The startling, incredibly supercilious tone of this man who had once been his valet, was extraordinary in itself. He had not taken such a tone even at their last interview. “I tell you, you’ve nothing to be afraid of. I won’t say anything about you; there’s no proof against you. I say, how your hands are trembling! Why are your fingers moving like that?
There’s Hasentreffer, there’s Hasentreffer, was echoed by every mouth; and we were filled with extravagant merriment when we saw the little man get out, neatly powdered, dressed in an iron grey surtout with a huge meerschaum in hand. An escort of at least ten servants followed him in, and in this guise he entered the dining-room. “We sat down at once.
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