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And then after I'd kicked that goal that big Eustace chap struck me like a locomotive, and I went down on the back of my head; and that's all except that they brought me up here and Professor Gibbs plastered me up and gave me a lot of nasty sweet water to take." "And Clausen?" "From the little I heard I think Cloud cut the rope and made Clausen promise not to tell.
The bullet raised a small cloud of dust between the men, sent them back again, and they did not return until night for their companion, who had undoubtedly been killed by the first shot. There were many other excellent marksmen in the Boer army, whose ability was often demonstrated in the interims of battles.
The sun had evidently gone down, and the whole sky was now covered with one thick cloud. Becoming more nervous as the gloom increased, I bent my steps more to the south, so as to keep near the border and more open part of the wood.
A cloud rests over the youth and early manhood of Thomas Cromwell, through which, only at intervals, we catch glimpses of authentic facts; and these few fragments of reality seem rather to belong to a romance than to the actual life of a man. Cromwell, the malleus monachorum, was of good English family, belonging to the Cromwells of Lincolnshire.
Remsen tells us that you were struck at by Bartlett Cloud on the football field one day at practice. Is that so?" Joel replied affirmatively. "Does he speak to you, or you to him?" "No, sir; but then I've never been acquainted with him." "Do you believe that he could have stolen that letter from your room?" "I know that he could have done so, sir, but I don't like to think " "That he did?
"Hello, there, Death Valley," he called out jovially, as the Widow choked with a rush of words, "what's the news from the Funeral Range?" "Now, here!" exclaimed the Widow, advancing from the dust cloud, and glancing into the machine. "I want you to bring back that gun!" "I'm sorry, Mrs. Huff," he replied with finality, "but you'll have to get along without it.
He neither heard their entrance, nor saw the face of disgust that George made behind his back. What was in Bascombe's deepest soul who shall tell? Of that region he himself knew nothing. It was a silent, holy place into which he had never yet entered therefore lonely and deserted as the top of Sinai after the cloud had departed.
Faster! Higher! Leap and prance, and watch the grin expand. Ah-h-h-h! Are the shadows there deep enough, rich enough, do you think? And are the lips too much a 'thread of scarlet'? Oh the opalline lights in that cloud! How to blend such colors on a palette? Nature? She is mocking, too. "But oh, Irina, I see it now, at last! The dawn the dawn is here. The night is gone.
But is His Sicilian Majesty equally well represented at the Cabinet of St. Cloud as served in his own capital? I have told you before that Bonaparte is extremely particular in his acceptance of foreign diplomatic agents, and admits none near his person whom he does not believe to be well inclined to him.
And I had a great big blue Chinese rug sent over that I think will do nicely for there. You like blue, don't you, Cloudy?" she finished anxiously. "Because I want to have you like it more even than we do." "Oh, I love it!" gasped Julia Cloud, trying to set her mind to revel in extravagant desires without compunction.
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