Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 6, 2025
A queer power seemed drawing him toward the other end of the seat. The most delightful sensations took possession of him; his heart fluttered oddly; his head began to reel under the spell. "Who are you?" he cried, in a sort of ecstacy. There was no answer. He remembered his matchsafe, and with trembling, eager fingers drew it from the pocket of the coat he was wearing.
Vandover ran out into the hall, waving his arms, shouting for the servants. "Oh, why didn't you tell me?" he cried to the housekeeper "Why did you let me find him so? When did he die?" The housekeeper was distraught. She couldn't believe it. Only a little while ago he had called her to say there were no more matches in the little brass matchsafe.
The blank, white monotony of one side of the room was jarred upon by the grate and mantelpiece, iron, painted black, while on the mantelpiece itself stood a little porcelain matchsafe with ribbed sides in the form of a truncated cone.
To gain a moment's time, and to hide his face from her haggard gaze, he turned and put the cigarette carefully on the stand of the matchsafe. He found it difficult to keep the soothing note in his voice. "Why why why? I don't see any need for these questions? What did I do? A kiss! What's that? And you talk as if I'd ceased to care for you. Of course I haven't. I always will.
"Well, for one thing, we don't want to be carrying these candles without making use of one, you see," replied Frank, who was again getting out his handy matchsafe. "What a silly I am, to be sure," laughed Bob; "why of course we want a light, if we're going to invade that den of the demon Joe told us about.
He gave a big sigh, shook his head, and then handed over his matchsafe, remarking: "Well, I reckon I'll just have to comply with the rules; but it's pretty hard on a feller, not to have just one match along, in case he needs it right bad. But anyhow, it's me to build that big blaze to-night, remember, boys, and I'm going to make your eyes shine, the way I do it, too."
He held to it like a hand that was dragging him out of an abyss; watched it grow from a circular object to a white dial crossed by black hands and edged by a ring of numerals. The hour marked slowly penetrated to his consciousness a quarter to four. He drew himself up and looked about; saw his notes on the desk, his hat on the table, the matchsafe with a cigarette stump lying on its saucer.
Blake swung around one of the heavy leather-seated chairs with a twist of his wrist, and drew out a silver matchsafe. As he took out a match, Mr. Leslie touched a spring that stopped the whirring mechanism of the phonograph, and wheeled around in his swivel desk-chair. "Dictate on wax," he explained. "Cuts out stenographer. Any clerk can typewrite. No mislaid stenographer's notes; no mistakes.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking