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He asked her the thing she had been doing. She enlightened him with the fatalist's reply. He sounded a bogey's alarm of contingent grave results. She retreated to the entrenched camp of the fact she had helped to make. "It's done!" she exclaimed. How could she regret what she felt comfort to know was done?
Ay, ay," said Bluenose, lighting his pipe with a heavy sigh, "Tommy Bogey's gone for good." That was the last that was heard of poor Tommy for many a long day on the beach of Deal.
He asked her the thing she had been doing. She enlightened him with the fatalist's reply. He sounded a bogey's alarm of contingent grave results. She retreated to the entrenched camp of the fact she had helped to make. "It's done!" she exclaimed. How could she regret what she felt comfort to know was done?
"That's a girl who has ability!" she observed, "and I beg you will give me the little one as a memento of my visit here. She'll make a capital statue to stand in my grandson's antechamber." And Ingé was given up to her, and this is how Ingé came into Bogey's domain.
Yet to admit it seemed to involve letting the bogey come back, so inextricably had we managed to mix up belief in the bogey's existence with belief in the existence of design in the universe. Our scornful young scientific and philosophic lions of today must not blame the Church of England for this confusion of thought.
And luck be with his drive! And may he do each hole in two, Although the bogey's five!" The voices died away. There was a silence. "If I hadn't missed a two-foot putt, I'd have done the long fifteenth in four yesterday," said the King. "I won the Ladies' Open Championship of the Outer Isles last week," said the Princess. They looked into each other's eyes for a long moment.
These visitors were old Bogey and his grandmother, who came to inspect it; and Bogey's grandmother is a venomous old woman, who is never idle: she never rides out to pay a visit without taking her work with her; and, accordingly, she had brought it on the day in question. She sewed biting-leather to be worked into men's shoes, and which makes them wander about unable to settle anywhere.
"I suppose you know the history of 'the Girl who Trod on the Loaf, so that she might not soil her shoes'? That has been written, and printed too." "I told that story myself," said the man. "Yes, then you must know it; and you must know also that the girl sank into the earth directly, to the Moor-woman, just as Old Bogey's grandmother was paying her morning visit to inspect the brewery.
Fortunately, Tommy Bogey's presence of mind did not forsake him. He seized the tiller while the men were fighting furiously, and steered away from the light, feeling sure that, whatever it might be, the wisest thing to be done was to steer clear of it. He had not got the schooner quite before the wind when a squall struck her, and laid her almost on her beam-ends.
Silvere would then entreat her to remain still; he, whose fervour was deeper than hers, knew no keener pleasure than that of gazing at his love's image reflected so distinctly in every feature. But she would not listen to him; she would joke and feign a rough old bogey's voice, to which the echo imparted a raucous melodiousness.
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