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A Belgian started over one day with some leftover soup which he purposed giving to the Russians. The sentry would not let him pass. He went back and told his mate. The latter, a kindly little fellow, thinking that the sentry had not understood the nature of the mission, decided to try himself. The sentry stopped him. He attempted to argue. The sentry pushed him roughly back. He struck the German.
The fact that no family members were able to keep him restrained in their homes gave credence to the speculation that his intractability from psychosis had caused his transience. Not eating one's kimchee, refusing to pour hot water into a bowl to consume every grain of leftover rice in an insipid soup, or not taking off one's shoes at the door: these were slight infractions of cultural norms.
"I don't know just what happened back there, but it certainly must have been plenty!" Ross swallowed a very dry mouthful of grain and then stooped to scoop up some leftover snow in the shadow of a tree root. It was not as refreshing as a real drink, but it helped. "You said Ashe is out of his head. What do we do for him, and what are your plans?" "We have to reach the river, somehow.
"Very hahnsome supper, very hahnsome. Nothin' ever seen like it in Rockland. Must have been a great heap of things leftover." The compliment was not ungrateful, and the Colonel acknowledged it by smiling and saying, "I should think the' was a trifle? Come and look."
Love was yearning for what one lacked and now, with all this time of having him, he could not sense that wish to possess what he had months earlier obtained. And yet like all other times they nonetheless climaxed to sleep the way one might eat some leftover pie to wash a pan.
They stood in commodious yards, well shaded by leftover forest trees, elm and walnut and beech, with here and there a line of tall sycamores where the land had been made by filling bayous from the creek. The house of a "prominent resident," facing Military Square, or National Avenue, or Tennessee Street, was built of brick upon a stone foundation, or of wood upon a brick foundation.
Leftover roots made an adequate breakfast, and when he checked his snares he decided that either he was extremely lucky or noxi were even stupider than Hovan had told him. Three of his snares held prey, the beagle-eared Homeworld version of rabbits, and one was still reasonably intact.
Bagley was not really taking the leftover, Tim Fisher, but instead was using Tim Fisher's company as a means toward meeting a larger group, from which there might be a better specimen. So he bided his time, thinking deeply around the subject, about which he knew nothing whatsoever. Saturday night was a repeat of Wednesday.
Soap from woodashes and leftover kitchen grease might scratch his skin and a jacket of rabbit or wolverine hide make him selfconscious, but he went neither cold nor hungry nor dirty while his urban counterpart, for the most part, did.
"Faith can have all the jelly she wants, and you can make the leftover seeds up in jam, can't you?" "Children!" cried Gail, white to the lips. "Have you been in that pasture with Mr. Skinner's ugly bull?" "Yes," they confessed, "but he never came near us." "I guess he didn't want to leave the grove," added Peace, marching complacently away to wash her berry-stained hands.
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