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The dignity of his breed forbade man-handling, and at a safe distance he stretched himself nervously and yawned. Jimmie stepped to the railing of the veranda, raised his foot to a cleat of the awning, and swung himself sprawling upon the veranda roof. On hands and knees across the shingles, still warm from the sun, he crept to the open window.
"Oh, Excellency, keep cool, keep cool, and all is not lost," implored the reporter. Rouletabille and Koupriane slipped carefully into the garden. Ermolai followed them. "There?" inquired Koupriane. "There," Ermolai replied. From the corner where they were, and looking through the veranda, they could see the "doctors" as they waited.
The acquaintance of Sylvia and Allen prospered from the start. She was not only a new girl in town, and one capable of debating the questions that interested him, but he was charmed with Elizabeth House, which was the kind of thing, he declared, that he had always stood for. The democracy of the veranda, the good humor and ready give and take of the young women delighted him.
His manner impressed the man; for a moment Farrell lingered, doubting, then impetuously offered his hand. "I'm hanged if I understand why," he said, "but somehow I believe you know what you're about. Good-night and and God be with you, Amber." The Virginian followed him to the doorway. Farrell's horse, a docile, well-trained animal, had come to the edge of the veranda to wait for his master.
Mark was dropping into a lazy mood again; it was very comfortable on the veranda. "I haven't fixed a time for going on. I beg your pardon, but aren't those buttons significant? I once spent six months in Rome. Aren't you what they call a Monsignore?" "Don't tell them so here, or I'll lose my standing. Yes, I am a prelate, a Domestic Prelate to His Holiness.
When she had left the room the prince again began speaking about his son, about the war, and about the Emperor, angrily twitching his brows and raising his hoarse voice, and then he had a second and final stroke. Princess Mary stayed on the veranda. The day had cleared, it was hot and sunny.
"Certainly," said the bandmaster hastily. "And I promised to come because I have a brother about your age 'way up in New York. Shall we sit here on the veranda and talk about him?" "First," said the boy gravely, "my sister Celia will receive you."
I've got them locked up, and I'll something well keep them till Barnes is sober enough to pay me what he owes me." Just then a tall, good-looking chap, with dark-blue eyes and a long, light-coloured moustache, stepped into the bar from the crowd on the veranda. "What's all this, Thomas?" he asked. "What's that got to do with you, Gentleman Once?" shouted Thomas.
He received an invitation to take tea on the veranda of an officer so high in the British service that many a staff major would have given a month's pay for a like opportunity. But he was laughed at for the advice he had to give. "Mahommed Gunga, you're like me, you're getting old!" said the high official. "Not so very old, sahib.
It was on the eve of his departure from Narragansett that his doubts and perplexities occasioned by Dorothy's surprising conduct were resolved. Being seated in a snug corner of the veranda in company with Mr. Pennington Brown, Mr. Port was smoking a comforting cigar. Mr. Brown, who also was smoking, did not seem to find his cigar comforting.
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