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Updated: June 8, 2025


The wind continued its aggression until she reached the front door of her newly plastered farmhouse, and then a heavier blast shook the pines above the low-pitched, shingled roof, and sent a shower of arrowy drops after her like a Parthian parting, as she entered.

It was as if she had said it to Bobbie, tenderly, low-pitched, and imploring. Peg seemed so miserable and thin. "What's the matter with you, kid?" growled Mrs. Grandoken. "The town folks," groaned Jinnie, "the town folks've made a mistake, an awful mistake." Mrs. Grandoken turned sunken eyes upon the speaker. "What mistake've they made?" Jinnie's throat hurt so she couldn't say any more.

I stood by the side table and was on the point of pouring out a glass of water when the woman raised her white-gloved hand in a gesture of refusal. "Thank you," she said, "thank you, but I am quite recovered, and indeed if the cause of my alarm is no more than a cat, as you say, I will proceed." She laughed, and her laughter was low-pitched, but very musical.

There was not a foot of that countryside we had not roamed together. My eyes pricked as I looked and listened. Exactly so, I thought, the sheep-bells had sounded below Barebarrow when I had lain listening to them in that low-pitched back bedroom of the Rectory which I had been proud to hear called "Dick's Room," after my first experience of sleeping alone.

His secretary was a spare, middle-aged, anxious-looking woman in snuff-brown and spectacles; his stenographer a blond young man, also spectacled and anxious; his office boy a stern youth in knickers, who bore no relation to the slangy, gum-chewing, redheaded office boy of the comic sections. The low-pitched, high-powered voice went on inside, talking over the long-distance telephone.

Whereat, to my discomfiture, she laughed enigmatically; a very soft laugh, low-pitched and musical, like the cooing of a glorified pigeon. I strolled on by her side, speculating a little anxiously on the coming introduction.

Disgustedly, Jordan flung open the motor door. "Well, my God, you've got about as much brains and heart as a chipmunk. Climb in!" Later, as the two separated, Morse said, with low-pitched voice: "Now, then, I'm going to plan to get Jinnie. Might's well be hung for a sheep's a lamb I'm just as well satisfied that Bates is dead. After I secure Jinnie then for my boy. God!

The front of the house had a harsh, stubborn expression; the lines of it were stiff and timid; the roof was low-pitched and, as it were, squashed down; and the fat, well-fed-looking chimneys were invariably crowned by wire caps with squeaking black cowls.

Her account finished, Robin smiled bravely back into the grave face, with that enchanting tenderness which had won Cornelius Allendyce and enticed him to strange deeds. The smile worked its spell at least on the dog for he moved slowly over to her, lifted a big paw and placed it gravely upon her shoulder. "Cæsar declares you a friend," said the woman in a slow, low-pitched voice.

"Why?" Having spoken to his waiter, Calendar for some seconds raked the room with quick glances, as if seeking an acquaintance. Presumably disappointed, he swung back to face the girl, bending forward to reach her ears with accents low-pitched and confidential. She, on her part, fell at once attentive, grave and responsive. Perhaps a dozen sentences passed between them.

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