United States or Rwanda ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
A safe stool must have three legs, you know." Old Tom then stumped away on shore. In about a quarter of an hour he returned, bringing half-a-dozen red herrings. "Here, Tom, grill these sodgers. Jacob, who is that tall old chap, with such a devil of a cutwater, which I met just now with master? We are bound for Sheerness this trip, and I'm to land him at Greenwich."
I could not help contrasting his manner with what it was in the old days, when the mere mention of a room used to throw him into a fit of passion, and when he used to tell me that I could have a cot on the roof till Tuesday, and after that, perhaps, a bed in the stable. Things had changed indeed. "Can I get breakfast in the grill room?" I inquired of the melancholy clerk. He shook his head sadly.
The Colonel resumed his speech, his voice acquiring as he proceeded a volume and depth that carried it far beyond the grill room's walls to the ears of edified passers on the street: "There were those among us who maintained in the face of extreme opposition, I am sorry to say that this town of Flamsted would soon make itself a factor in the vast industrial life of our marvellous country.
He toyed with the thought of sneaking into a food storage compartment, then thrust it out of his mind as too risky. He had to find Greg and Johnny before anything. He passed a grill, and heard a murmur of voices; something in the deep bass rumble caught his ear, and he stopped, listened. The voices stopped also. He waited for them to begin, pressing against the grill.
Now it was a Tudor house that carried us away, now a Jacobean, and again an early Georgian with enfolding wings and a wrought-iron grill. A stage of bewilderment succeeded. Maude, I knew, loved the cottages best. She said they were more "homelike." But she yielded to my liking for grandeur.
"I've no doubt you could grill the steak and brew the coffee with equal skill," he admitted, "but I'm not going to let you. That's my job. I want to prove my prowess. Sit down on that log, please, and oversee me." She watched with hungry interest while he also gave evidence of his craft.
He ran his hands over his face and thought about shaving, but he couldn't face the work involved. He managed to run a comb through his hair and rinse out his mouth. He came back into the room. It was 6:30. Maybe Freddie's was open. If Freddie wasn't, then maybe the Grill. He'd have to take his chances, he couldn't stand it here any longer. He put on his coat and stumbled out.
A block away, Gramercy Park, a rectangle of the Knickerbocker New York of the woodcut, red-brick sidewalk, salon parlor, and crystal chandelier, was already lacy with the first leafwork of spring. Several times, when the sun lay warmest, Lilly ventured into its Old World sobriety, strolling around the tall grill fence that inclosed the park.
Soon we were between lines of building once more, shops, private dwellings and warehouses intermix'd; then pass'd a tall church; and in about two minutes more drew up again. I look'd out. Facing me was a narrow gateway leading to a house that stood somewhat back from the street, as if slipping away from between the lines of shops that wedg'd it in on either hand. Over the grill a link was burning.
When we were alone, she sat down by me, and asked what I should really like to eat. If I did not care for a beefsteak of veal, could I eat a beefsteak of mutton? It was not the first time that such a choice had been offered me, for, in the South, bistecca commonly means a slice of meat done on the grill or in the oven.
Word Of The Day