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Updated: June 21, 2025
However, I've kept soberer and acted straighter since I've been an enlisted man than for a long time past; the non-coms. know how to handle men like me. And I'm a good aviator, and they want to keep me." "At all events," said Broussard, taking Lawrence's hand, "I'll look out for your wife and child. The boy shall have his chance he shall have his chance, the jolly little chap!"
The pride of maidenhood was born, as it should be, with love, and Anita no longer ran to the window to see Broussard, but when he was present he filled the room; when he spoke she heard no other voice than his. Colonel Fortescue had a theory which came amazingly true in his own daughter.
With head reeling dizzily, I crept through the opening, yet held the latch, fascinated by the first spoken words within. "Well, Broussard, what is it?" "All seen to, sir." "The bodies are planted then?" "The men attended to that." "And the woman?" "On her way; there was no trouble. Sallie had her doped, sir." "I expected she would.
"Yes, I kissed Anita," responded Broussard, recovering his native impudence, "but she is my Anita and not your Anita any longer." This produced another attack on Broussard's shins by the After-Clap. "I think," said Mrs. Fortescue demurely, "Kettle had better take the After-Clap home." "So do I," said Broussard, "he has been very much in my way ever since he began yelling."
Fortescue; and then there was no more music from the harp, the Colonel going into his office and Mrs. Fortescue to the After-Clap's nursery. In her own little room Anita was already hard at work on her letter to Broussard. It was a very short and simple letter, telling exactly, and only, what Mrs. Lawrence had asked, and it was signed "Sincerely Yours."
"Broussard, you are angry now, and I'll take no heed of your heated words. But to-morrow you must make a gentleman's amends." "Tush, tush," Levert interposed, "'tis the quarrel of a child. He means nothing." Broussard said no more, but looked surly and ill pleased.
Gamechick, the broken rein hanging upon his neck, stood trembling and snorting with terror. "I think you had better ride back to the post and get help," said Colonel Fortescue. Broussard walked toward Gamechick, but the horse, stricken with panic, backed away and before Broussard could catch him, he whirled about wildly and galloped down the mountain road at breakneck speed.
He turned his large, intelligent eyes on Broussard, saying as plainly as a horse can speak: "Good-bye, good master. Never will I, your faithful horse, forget you." Broussard, walking rapidly off, in the bright January morning, turned around for one last glimpse at the house that held Anita.
Broussard, he keep 'em for fryin' chickens and bri'lers; he eats a cock chicken ev'ry mornin' fur his breakfus', day in and day out." "Oh, Kettle!" said Anita, in a tone of soft reproach. She disliked the notion of a cockpit, but she was a lover of abstract truth, which Kettle was not. "Well, Miss Anita," Kettle began argumentatively, "the truth is, Mr.
Julien on the western mouth of the Nile which is called the Rosetta river. Broussard liked to rummage among the ruins of the lower Nile and one day he found a stone which greatly puzzled him. Like everything else in that neighborhood, it was covered with picture writing. But this slab of black basalt was different from anything that had ever been discovered. The Greek language was known.
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