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No wild animal is particularly fond of the fumes of tobacco so it certainly won't entice them any closer." Smith-Oldwick lighted his cigarette and sat puffing slowly upon it. He had proffered one to the girl but she had refused, and thus they sat in silence for some time, the silence of the night ruffled occasionally by the faint crunching of padded feet upon the soft sands of the gorge's floor.
They were Sir Ferdinando Gorge's men, as this savage told us; as he did likewise of the huggery, that is, fight, that our discoverers had with the Nausites, and of our tools that were taken out of the woods, which we willed him, should be brought again; otherwise we would right ourselves. He had undertaken several schemes of discovery and settlement in America, but with small success.
Her face had now an air of homeliness, well suited to an English household interior. She could chat. Any pauses occurring, he was the one guilty of them; she did not allow them to be barrier chasms, or 'strids' for the leap with effort; she crossed them like the mountain maid over a gorge's plank kept her tones perfectly. Her Madge and Mr. Gower Woodseer made a conversible topic.
Rapture and anguish who can lay down the border line that divides them? Smiles and tears alike belong to both. And you are weeping? Aye, aye poor child! Come here and kiss me." Damia drew the head of the kneeling girl close to her bosom and pressed her lips to Gorge's brow.
The wind, quickening, abandons the natural direction it has pursued on the open upland, and takes the course of the gorge's length, rushing along therein helter-skelter, and carrying thick rain upon its back.
Rapture and anguish who can lay down the border line that divides them? Smiles and tears alike belong to both. And you are weeping? Aye, aye poor child! Come here and kiss me." Damia drew the head of the kneeling girl close to her bosom and pressed her lips to Gorge's brow.
Rapture and anguish who can lay down the border line that divides them? Smiles and tears alike belong to both. And you are weeping? Aye, aye poor child! Come here and kiss me." Damia drew the head of the kneeling girl close to her bosom and pressed her lips to Gorge's brow.
Her face had now an air of homeliness, well suited to an English household interior. She could chat. Any pauses occurring, he was the one guilty of them; she did not allow them to be barrier chasms, or 'strids' for the leap with effort; she crossed them like the mountain maid over a gorge's plank kept her tones perfectly. Her Madge and Mr. Gower Woodseer made a conversible topic.
Between the gorge's sides they had swift glimpses of racing flotsam that had yesterday been dwelling houses and they waited, nerve-stretched, for the crash that would launch them into the same precarious channel. Their out-going would be as violent and eruptive as that of lava from a crater. Then the dam broke.
Just where her father and brothers would watch she did not know. Sometimes their spies remained upon the rim, sometimes they watched from the gorge's bottom. Pan-at-lee was at a loss to know what to do or where to go. She felt very small and helpless alone in the vast darkness of the night. Strange noises fell upon her ears.
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