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'Who are you? shouted Vasili Andreevich. 'From A-a-a... was all that could be heard. 'I say, where are you from? 'From A-a-a-a! one of the peasants shouted with all his might, but still it was impossible to make out who they were. 'Get along! Keep up! shouted another, ceaselessly beating his horse with the switch. 'So you're from a feast, it seems? 'Go on, go on! Faster, Simon! Get in front!
'As long as I live, he said, 'the family must not break up, we must go on altogether. She gave a look and gritted her teeth.... Fritters were served, she would not eat them." "A-a-a!..." Crutch was surprised. "And tell me, if you please, when does she sleep?" said Lipa.
Then we'll show him this and it'll be a cinch. And my, look at these others here you're a soldier, and here you're a-a-a polo player that is polo, ain't it, or is it tennis? And will you look at these stunning Westerns! These are simply the best of all on horseback, and throwing a rope, and the fighting face with the gun drawn, and rolling a cigarette and, as I live, saying good-by to the horse.
In the silence of the neighborhood the a-a-a and o-oo, persistently prolonged, repeated again and again, with windows open, gave the factory the atmosphere of a boarding-school. And it was in reality a schoolgirl who was practising these exercises, an inexperienced, wavering little soul, full of unconfessed longings, with everything to learn and to find out in order to become a real woman.
"A-a-a..." said Crutch, wondering as he listened to Lipa. "A-a!... We-ell! "I am very fond of jam, Ilya Makaritch," said Lipa. "I sit down in my little corner and drink tea and eat jam. Or I drink it with Varvara Nikolaevna, and she tells some story full of feeling. We have a lot of jam four jars. 'Have some, Lipa; eat as much as you like." "A-a-a, four jars!" "They live very well.
In the silence of the neighborhood the a-a-a and o-oo, persistently prolonged, repeated again and again, with windows open, gave the factory the atmosphere of a boarding-school. And it was in reality a schoolgirl who was practising these exercises, an inexperienced, wavering little soul, full of unconfessed longings, with everything to learn and to find out in order to become a real woman.
"'A just man falleth seven times and riseth up again!" he quoted softly. "And the wicked: well, they'll have a mighty lame hoss on their hands, I reckon." Mose began checking Elijah, several lengths in front of the wire. "Don't go bustin' a lung, hawss," said he. "Might need it again. You winnin' by a mile. A-a-a mile.
At last the stamping became like thunder, and unbroken. Then the prefect of the city, who rode around the arena with a brilliant retinue, gave a signal with a handkerchief, which was answered throughout the amphitheatre by "A-a-a!" from thousands of breasts.
When ten feet away they fell on all fours and, using the Australian crawl-stroke, crept slowly toward us, exhaling sounds of passionate endearment mingled with the heart-stopping fragrance of alova. Beyond the glimmering lights, an unseen choir burst into the "a-a-a" of the national love-song. It was a critical not to say embarrassing moment.
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