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Updated: June 27, 2025
After he got away I saw the Colonel and his daughter in the window." Instantly Captain Lige became excited, and seized Captain Grant by the cape of his overcoat. "Say, Grant, what kind of appearing fellow was he?" "Short, thick-set, blocky face." "I reckon I know," said Breast, bringing down his fist on the wagon board; "I've had my eye on him for some little time."
We grew tired after a while of seeing Germans; it seemed to us that every vista always had been choked with unshaved, blond, blocky, short- haired men in rawhide boots and ill-fitting gray tunics; and that every vista always would be.
He took in the blocky shoulders and the square head, and he pictured the little eyes at a vanishing-point in lines of a bargain. Then humor blessed humor came to his rescue. He had entered the race in the West, where all start equal. He had come here, like this man who was succeeding, to make his living. Would he succeed? Mr.
A red and white cow came out of the lane and attempted to cross the slippery sidewalk, sprawling helplessly for a moment, and then with a great effort recovered herself and went back the way she came, limping painfully, the blocky young man hastening her movements by throwing at her a piece of box lid, with the remark that that would "learn her."
After he got away I saw the Colonel and his daughter in the window." Instantly Captain Lige became excited, and seized Captain Grant by the cape of his overcoat. "Say, Grant, what kind of appearing fellow was he?" "Short, thick-set, blocky face." "I reckon I know," said Breast, bringing down his fist on the wagon board; "I've had my eye on him for some little time."
In front of the store stood the delivery sleigh, receiving its load of parcels, which were thrown in with an air of unconcern by a blocky young man with bare red hands. The horse stood without being tied, in an apparently listless and melancholy dream.
She wrote it painfully, laboriously, in round blocky letters. Pearl always put her tongue out when she was doing anything that required minute attention. She was so anxious to have the address just right that her tongue was almost around to her ear. The address read: Miss Polly Bragg, english gurl and sick with fever Brandon Hospittle Brandon. Then she drew a design around it.
Farnol Greer, on the other hand, was as heavily moulded as a bulldog. His arms were short and blocky; his shoulders welted with brawn; his chest was two hairy hills, like a gorilla's, while across his stomach muscles lay ridged like ropes. His waist was thick with pones of sinew bulging over the hips, as one sees in the statue of Discobolus.
He was alive only because he was in a womblike creche pod that had taken over most of his vital functions. The man's name was Lewis Orne. He had been a blocky, heavy-muscled redhead with slightly off-center features and the hard flesh of a heavy planet native. Even in the placid repose of near death there was something clownish about his appearance.
After he had made up his opinion he smiles into my eyes an' sez, "I like your face." "You soothe me," sez I. "I was just thinkin' o' havin' it remodelled; but now I'll leave it just as it is." Well, he laughs an' slaps me on the back an' sez, "I like your style. Want to take a ride?" "What on?" sez I, for he seemed purty blocky an' fat-legged for a ridin' man.
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