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Updated: May 22, 2025
At the top of the drive was the big, white colonial mansion, with its high storied porch and great white pillars. On the porch stood the genial host in a buff-colored suit with knee-breeches, his kindly face radiating welcome to each guest. The riders sprang from their saddles and threw the bridles to the waiting servants, the chaises and the chariots emptied their owners and were whisked away.
"Welcome back, Carse!" "Hello, Eliot," the Hawk nodded, rapidly divesting himself of the suit but retaining his infra-red device. "You've lost no time, I see." The elderly scientist, his frail form clad in a buff-colored smock, turned and surveyed the laboratory.
On this momentous occasion she was attired in buff-colored silk, very scant as to drapery, a lace fichu and a huge Leghorn bonnet trimmed with pink gauze and long ostrich feathers. The wooing was ardent, but growing at one moment lukewarm, Mr.
The road which led up to it was called the Rio Blanca white river an appropriate name, as it was broad and deeply worn into the soft rock of which the ridge consisted. When we reached the crest, we found the ridge extending as a flat plain of light, buff-colored tufa, with many trails worn deeply into it, and giving out, under the bright sunshine, a frightful reflection of light and heat.
Henslowe immediately pulled down the black cloth over the half globe of the light. The compartment was empty. He threw himself down with a sigh of comfort on the soft buff-colored cushions of the seat. "But what on earth?" stammered Andrews. "M'en fous, c'est mon metier," interrupted Henslowe. The train pulled out of the station.
He did not even look at her. "My hands are full," he declared. And again, "My hands are full." She glanced at them. And saw that each was indeed full of paper money. Moreover, the green of his coat was the green of new crisp bills. While his buff-colored trousers were made of yellowish ones, carefully creased. He was literally made of money. Now she felt reasonably certain of his identity.
Finally growing weary of the snowy Chinese and the nacreous and gilded Japanese papers, the white Whatmans, the brown Hollands, the buff-colored Turkeys and Seychal Mills, and equally disgusted with all mechanically manufactured sheets, he had ordered special laid paper in the mould, from the old plants of Vire which still employ the pestles once in use to grind hemp.
The door opened with difficulty, and a major in a light buff-colored coat stumbled out. One arm, wrapped in bloody bandages, was held in a sling made of a handkerchief. His face was white and drawn into a stiff mask with pain. The lieutenant saluted. "For God's sake where's a repair station?" he asked in a loud shaky voice. "There's none in this village, Major." "Where the hell is there one?"
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