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Updated: June 20, 2025
"Perhaps we can get inside. At any rate, we can find out whether there is any one inside who wants help." Dick put his hand on the doorknob, giving it a turn and a hard push. "Door's locked tightly now," he announced. "And it takes human hands to lock a door," Reade observed sagely. "Is there anyone inside who needs any help?" Prescott called loudly. All was silent inside.
An all's-well-with-the-world pat. Somebody rattled the doorknob. Hazlitt started eagerly. Relief. But, good God, no lights in the office. The cleaners would come in and think things. Her hair in disorder and her face smeared with weeping would make them think things. An oath disentangled itself from his confusion. The door opened. Two scrawny-faced women with mops and brooms.... "It's all right.
It would have been stupid not to see the joke. "I'm sorry I can't sell my sample," I said, with my hand on the doorknob. "That's all right, my dear," said Mr. Kennedy, with a gracious wave of the hand. And his partner called after me, "Better luck next door!" Well, I was getting on! The people grew friendlier all the time. But I skipped "next door"; it was "Mortgages and Bonds."
There is only one flaw, and that will disappear with the one cutting required to bring the stone to the best possible shape." "Stow it!" ordered Blake. The rattling of the doorknob drew his gaze about. "Here's Grif, back at last. He's been to chin with Papa Leslie."
Murphy grunted, whether in assent or disapproval was hard to tell, but as he climbed the stairs again, Marsh was close beside him. Murphy placed his hand on the doorknob and shook the door as he violently turned the knob. The door was securely locked. Then he threw his two hundred and some odd pounds against the door itself. The stout oak resisted his individual efforts. "No use," he grumbled.
Range kids are brought up on them Wind-river bibles, as we call mail order catalogues. I'll bet you I can give offhand the freight on anything you can name, from a hair hackamore to a gang plow." "Fly at it, then," laughed Luck, with his hand on the doorknob. "I am going to be some busy myself. I'll just turn over the transportation problem to you folks. Adios."
With a jerk, his hand swept out, felt for the doorknob, and closed upon it. "Good-night!" he said heavily, and stepped out into the hall. It seemed for a while, even after he had gained the street and made his way again to the subway, that nothing was concrete around him, that he was living through some fantastical dream.
He fell asleep, in a kind of ruminative growl: "Made a fool of myself babbling about what I remembered what I thought! I'll go back to Washington in the morning." Judge Wilton's unsteady voice, supplemented by a rattling of the doorknob, roused him. He had thrust one foot out of bed when Wilton came into the room. "Quick! Come on, man!" the judge instructed, and hurried into the hall.
There must be some way of explaining to the people in charge that he hadn't done anything but kid a policeman that he must get out. He went over to the door and tried it tentatively no inside doorknob, of course, this wasn't a hotel. He looked through the bars nothing but corridor and the cell on the other side. Should he call?
She stopped at the captain's sleeping room without wishing to pass the threshold, without loosening her hold on the brass doorknob in her right hand. Ferragut behind her, was pushing her with treacherous gentleness, at the same time repeating his caresses on her neck. "No; here, no," she said. "Not for anything in the world!... I will be yours, I promise you; I give you my word of honor.
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