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Updated: June 16, 2025
"Done what?" inquired her husband, hunching his shoulders. "Putting your herringy knife in the butter. Well, you can eat it now; I won't. A lot of good me slaving from morning to night and buying good food when you go and spoil it like that." Mr. Jobling removed the pipe from his mouth. "Not so much of it," he commanded. "I like butter with a little flavor to it.
“Why is such a man alive?” Dmitri, beside himself with rage, growled in a hollow voice, hunching up his shoulders till he looked almost deformed. “Tell me, can he be allowed to go on defiling the earth?” He looked round at every one and pointed at the old man. He spoke evenly and deliberately.
Without warning or apology the Russian boy had turned from the window, and stepping down the carriage, had tumbled into his former seat, hunching himself up with his face to the cushions and his back to his fellow-travellers. It was a sudden and an uncivil proceeding.
Seems to me my fruit ranch is 'most in sight. I can damn near smell the oranges a-ripenin'." "Certainly," Corliss agreed. "But better still, I'll run on down to Dawson, and you can come in when you've finished hunching." "Say!" Del objected. "I said it was a hunch; and I want to ring you in on it, savve? You're all right, and you've learned a hell of a lot out of books.
It died away into a rumble, ever to be renewed on the same high, long-drawn note. Ambrose was reminded of the baying of hounds. The dancer knotted his handkerchief as he circled the stove. Dancing up to another man, he offered him the end of it with some spoken words. It was accepted, and they danced together around the stove, joined by the handkerchief. The hunching, spasmodic step never varied.
He doesn't take to his studies quite as I would like to have him, but he has a wonderful head for business. There is splendid stuff in Tim if it could only be worked right." While Nelson spoke, Tim was hunching his shoulders forward in the darkness, listening with the whole of two sharp ears. His face worked in spite of him, and he gave an inarticulate snort.
"Done what?" inquired her husband, hunching his shoulders. "Putting your herringy knife in the butter. Well, you can eat it now; I won't. A lot of good me slaving from morning to night and buying good food when you go and spoil it like that." Mr. Jobling removed the pipe from his mouth. "Not so much of it," he commanded. "I like butter with a little flavor to it.
"No prisoners!" said he, repeating the aide-de-camp's words. "They are forcing us to exterminate them. So much the worse for the Russian army.... Go on... harder, harder!" he muttered, hunching his back and presenting his fat shoulders. "All right. Let Monsieur de Beausset enter, and Fabvier too," he said, nodding to the aide-de-camp.
He hinted, with a punctuating crack of his whip, that he would make a second visit, and a more interesting one, at just about the time when the trappers were there in force. Jan Thoreau listened to him, hunching his shoulders a little at the other's manifest air of importance. In turn, the French-Canadian scrutinized Jan good-naturedly.
'Suppose he hasn't got the Psammead? whispered Jane. But that doubt was set at rest by the Psammead itself; for almost before the door was open it sprang through the chink of it into Anthea's arms, shivering and hunching up its fur. 'Here's its fancy overcoat, said the soldier, holding out the bag, into which the Psammead immediately crept. 'Now, said Cyril, 'what would you like us to do?
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