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Updated: June 20, 2025
Westerling had now recovered his. He was again the superman in command. "It is for you and not for us to locate the leak; yes, for you!" he said. "That is all on the subject for the present," he added in a tone of mixed pity and contempt, which left Bouchard freed from the stare of his colleagues and in the miserable company of his humiliation. All on the subject for the present!
Now we have a man with nerve enough to go into the dungeons, we'll lay this ridiculous psychological bugaboo at once; that is, if you have the nerve!" She arched her brows in challenging scrutiny of Bouchard, while her eyes twinkled at the prospect of adventure.
If the Gray tacticians had been outplayed by their opponents, if their losses for the ground gained exceeded calculations, then it was good to have a scapegoat for their professional mistakes. Bouchard was Westerling's choice for chief of intelligence.
There was a devilish, mischievous joy in battling to outwit Bouchard more than in her deceit of Westerling. Satire, yes needle-pointed, acid-tipped! Melodrama done in burlesque, too. In the name of the noble art of war, a bit of fooling about ghosts in a tunnel might influence the fate of armies that were the last word in modern equipment.
If no bottle is available, the next best way is to write the record on a smooth piece of wood with an ordinary lead pencil which will withstand the action of water far better than ink or indelible pencil. Here I had my last talk with Bouchard. He was very anxious to go to college and take an engineering course.
I believe both their aerial fleet and their high-angle artillery were greatly underestimated. Finally, I cannot reduce my force too much in scouting or they might rake the offensive." "Another case of not being informed!" concluded Turcas, returning grimly to his point. He looked at Bouchard, and every one began looking at Bouchard.
He was a stranger and I was fairly well acquainted. But, when the time drew near for us to go back, I began to experience a feeling of depression. While I had not noticed it before, I suppose the cumulative effect of the experiences of the last eight months was beginning to tell on me. I noticed that Bouchard appeared to be in about the same condition.
"It's all right, Minna; there aren't any ghosts!" she called as they entered the sitting-room. And Minna, in the kitchen, covered her mouth lest she should scream for joy. "Thank you!" said Bouchard grudgingly as Marta saw him to the door. "On the contrary, thank you!
For it is known that vaso-motor paralysis is not of itself sufficient to induce hæmorrhage, unless the tension of the blood-current be coincidently raised. See Bouchard, Pathogenie des Hæmorrhagies. The "uterine epistaxis" of malignant fevers are evidently foreign to our subject, as also the hæmorrhages of subinvolution, or of the menopause.
If Bouchard were not so bored, he would not be very wretched, for he is very courageous, and he has a good temper. But he is terribly bored, in his gentle, uncomplaining fashion. He is too ill to talk or play games. He cannot sleep; he can only contemplate the wall, and his own thoughts which creep slowly along it, like caterpillars.
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