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Updated: May 4, 2025
"D'you know that the green of the cowslip is the most beautiful green in all Nature, Joan? Here, I have a flower, too; we will exchange if you like." He took a scrap of blackthorn bloom from his coat and held it out to her, but she shrank backward and he learned something. "Please not that truly 'tis the dreadfulest wicked flower. Doan't 'e arsk I to take en." "Unlucky?" "Iss fay!
As, sometimes, in a nightmare events crowd upon each other's heels with a conviction of dreadfulest reality, yet some inconsistent detail accuses the whole display of incompleteness and disguise, so the events that now followed, though they actually happened, persuaded the mind somehow that the detail which could explain them had been overlooked in the confusion, and that therefore they were but partly true, the rest delusion.
I should be delighted if you would come and hunt lions in my woods with me some time." "Oh, do you open the door to children?" "Certainly we open the door to children," he said, and as I live, he looked so sad I couldn't help thinking he was sorry to close it against any one. A mystery is the dreadfulest thing.
Being upon the works of the fort, on a sudden I heard the dreadfulest cry raised in the city that can be imagined; 'tis not possible to express the manner of it, and I could see the women and children running about the streets in a most lamentable condition.
My mother'll scold me awfully for letting you get away." "Well, there; you've got the dreadfulest mother, Lina, and I'm real sorry; but it's no use to tease me; I wouldn't go back, not if you should cut me up into little pieces as big as a cent." Lina was ready to fall upon her knees, right on the pavement.
They were in the bottom of the ship, upon the rough floor covering the stone ballast. Then these frightened stowaways found respite to confer in tremulous whispers. "This is the very dreadfulest fix of all, Joe. I had a fair look at Blackbeard himself, in the stern of the boat, red ribbons in his whiskers, and his sash stuck full of pistols." "That old rip isn't an easy man to mistake, Jack.
"It must be just the dreadfulest thing there is not to have a dog," Worth condoled. There was no response. The puppy's head was on Ann's shoulder. He was ambitious to mount to her face. "Didn't you never have a dog?" Worth asked, drawling it out tragically. The head nodded yes, but the eyes did not grow any more glad at thought of once having had a dog.
"In Bill's place I heard you say you were going to leave on the Tête Jaune train. I am going to take you to a real dinner. And now I should let those good people know your name." A moment unflinching and steady she looked into his face. "It is Joanne, the name you have made famous as the dreadfulest woman in fiction. Joanne Gray." "I am sorry," he said, and bowed low. "Come.
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