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Updated: June 10, 2025
But we had to camp there. All hands set to work. It really was fun it should have been fine for me but my gloomy obsession to hurry obscured my mind. I marveled at old Doyle, over seventy, after that long, hard day, quickly and efficiently cooking a good hot supper. Romer had enjoyed the day. He said he was tired, but would like to stay up beside the mighty camp-fire Nielsen built.
Grey took refuge in his big book, which for years Miss Gascoigne averred he had always kept beside him at meal-times. Not good behavior in a paterfamilias, but the habit told its own tale. Very soon Christian neither marveled at nor blamed him.
They have praised the marvelous ingenuity with which De Foe described how the castaway overcame single-handed, the deprivations of all civilized conveniences; they have marveled at the simple method in which all his labors are marshaled so as to render his conversion of the island into a home the type of industrial and even of social progress and theory; they have rhapsodized over the perfection of De Foe's style as a model of literary strength and artistic verisemblance.
Now this was done in the presence of the queen and many of the servants. And when they saw it they greatly marveled, and began to fear. And the king stood forth, and began to minister unto them. And he did minister unto them, insomuch that his whole household were converted unto the Lord.
The King of the Street was himself once more, and I marveled again at the quickness and clearness of his directions. I was to buy one hundred shares of this stock, sell five hundred of that stock, buy one thousand of another in blocks of one hundred, and sell the same in a single block at the last session. "And the last thing you do," he continued, "buy every share of Omega that is offered.
Then he noticed that the old man was not wearing the ruby ring. "I wear it only when I wish to see it shine, sir," old Malakh answered, and St. George marveled at that courteous "sir," and at other things. To everything that he asked him the old man returned only his urbane, unmeaning replies, touched with their melancholy symbolism. When St.
They lifted their heads in supplication. The angel was gone. While they marveled and wept he came again; and bending low, he whispered the decree. Was it Heaven? Or Hell? By courtesy of Mr. Cable I came into possession of a singular book eight or ten years ago. It is likely that mine is now the only copy in existence.
I marveled at these stories because they concerned a young man of whom I am very fond, but escapes of this kind were numerous in these days and almost every soldier who passed through the drive can truthfully tell of similar escapes. We were facing death all the time and the remarkable thing is that so many of us did pass through the drive and come out alive. Gassed
He had never a word or glance for Birt, who marveled at his conduct. He seemed perpetually brooding upon some perplexity. Occasionally in the midst of his work he would stand motionless for five minutes, the two-handled knife poised in his grasp, his eyes fixed upon the ground, his shaggy brows heavily knitted, his expression doubting, anxious. The tanner commented upon this inactivity, one day.
Even the experienced doctor marveled at the strength of a man who at four o'clock in the morning could have a sword driven through the tissues in perilous proximity to the right lung, and yet, at nine o'clock on that same night, was able to announce an unalterable resolution to get up and dress for breakfast next day. That, of course, was a pleasing fiction intended for Cynthia's benefit.
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