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Mary did so, and then, as if conscious for the first time of Miss Grundy's monopoly of the candle, Sal seized a large newspaper lying near, and twisting it up, said, "Let there be light;" then thrusting one end of it into the flames and drawing it out again, added, "and there is light."

I bless my stars for a taste so catholic, so unexcluding. I confess that it moves my spleen to see these things in books' clothing perched upon shelves, like false saints, usurpers of true shrines, intruders into the sanctuary, thrusting out the legitimate occupants.

"Now I know for certain, and it's at our house, too, for you asked Polly if you might bring some other girl, Elsie somebody or other, so! Oh! I'll soon know." "Joel," exclaimed Jasper suddenly, clapping him on the shoulder, "I'm going round to the gymnasium; want to go with me?" Joel stopped his capering at once, this new idea thrusting out the old one.

As soon as the maid came up to the doorway, the woman stepped up to her, and thrusting a package into her hands, said quickly, 'Give this to Miss Ruth Morton. It is from the studio. Then she walked away at once. "Nora, as she tells me, did not know just what to do.

Pol even around the last land of France, and so to Brest, yet never see sign of Notre Dame des Eaux; for it clings to a cliff somewhat lower than the road, and between grows a stunted thicket of harsh and ragged trees, their skeleton white branches, tortured and contorted, thrusting sorrowfully out of the hard, dark foliage that still grows below, where the rise of land below the highway gives some protection.

The dwarf ran at him as he reared up again, and casting his great arms about the brute's body, wrestled with him as man with man. Then it was, for the first time I think, that I learned all the Ethiopian's strength. For he, a dwarf, threw that lion on its back and thrusting his big head beneath the jaws, struggled with it madly. I was up, the knife still in my hand, and oh! I too was strong.

It was almost too slow for the man's eager nerves. He wanted to reach his goal. His lean body thrilled with a profound joy. He lusted for the battle which he knew to lie ahead of him. But, even so, he gave no outward sign. His face was set and harsh. His small eyes bored through the gloom, thrusting to penetrate beyond every bend in the winding road. Nothing escaped them.

Long as it has taken to tell the battle, beginning with the slaying of the Persian cat to the thrusting of the mop into Michael's jaws, so swift had been the rush of events that the passengers, springing from their deck- chairs and hurrying to the scene, were just arriving when Michael eluded the mop of the sailor by a successful dodge and plunged in on Captain Duncan, this time sinking his teeth so savagely into a rotund calf as to cause its owner to splutter an incoherent curse and howl of wrathful surprise.

You never will talk over serious things with me." "What are serious things?" asked Peter. "Well," said Honora vaguely, "ambitions, and what one is going to make of themselves in life. And then you make fun of me by saying you want Mr. Dwyer's house." She laughed again. "I can't imagine you in that house!" "Why not?" he asked, stopping beside the pond and thrusting his hands in his pockets.

"Fog it is," answered Sergeant Archelaus, and added, "Poor souls!" "Thick?" By this time the Commandant had flung back the bed-clothes and was thrusting his feet into his worn slippers. "I never seen a thicker in my born days." "If we had a gun " "Ah if," agreed Sergeant Archelaus, curtly, and turning, let his voice rise in a sudden passion. "Why did I wake ye? Set it down to habit.