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Updated: June 17, 2025
"What a ridiculous, foolish, lovable fellow it is!" "I kiss your hand." And he knelt gallantly in the muck. She jerked her hand away, and, burying it with its mate in his curly mop, shook his head back and forth. "What shall I do with him, father?" Jacob Welse shrugged his shoulders and laughed; and she turned Courbertin's face up and kissed him on the lips.
A dented gutta-percha forehead, very prominent about the brows, and somewhat resembling in its general topography a raised map of Switzerland, sloped upward and backward to the top of the head; not a very large head, but wonderfully bumped and battered by the operations of the brain, and partially covered by a mop of dark wavy hair, a little thin in front and somewhat grizzled behind; a long, bony pair of arms, with long hands on them; a long, lank body, with a long black coat on it; a long, loose pair of legs, with long boots on the feet, all in motion at the same time all shining, and wriggling, and working with an indescribable vitality, a voice bubbling up from the vast depths below with cheery, spasmodic, and unintelligible words of welcome this was the wonderful man that stood before me, the great Danish improvisator, the lover of little children, the gentle Caliban who dwells among fairies and holds sweet converse with fishes, and frogs, and beetles!
A tramp's a tramp, no matter how much purple he's been used to, and you can say the same for a stowaway. What's the matter with me taking the place of one of those deck-hands, or whatever you call 'em, you lost last night?" "What's that?" "Swabbers, maybe you call 'em. Men that mop up the decks after everybody else has turned in."
"It's your fault for shutting yourself up." "Duty," I said, slapping my chest "duty," and I knocked my glass over with an elbow. "Oh, Dahlia, I'm horribly sorry. May I go and stand in the corner?" "Let's talk very fast and pretend we didn't notice it," said Myra, helping me to mop. "Go on, Archie." "Well, it's like this," said Archie. "A little while ago the Vicar called here."
So Hubbs had come on to see what it was all about. "Course," says he, "I remember this Gordon; but I didn't think he would me, and I can't see how settlin' up his will could " "Threw the hooks into you sometime or other, didn't he?" says I. "I dun'no's you'd rightly call it that, either," says Hubbs, runnin' his long fingers reflective through his heavy mop of wavy hair.
As astronomer and astronomer there was no harm in their meetings; but as woman and man she feared them. Ten days passed without a sight of him; ten blurred and dreary days, during which the whole landscape dripped like a mop; the park trees swabbed the gravel from the drive, while the sky was a zinc-coloured archi-vault of immovable cloud.
Here they come he and Mrs. Martha. You'll have to introduce me, Bill-the-Conk; I have never met the lady." Ward hastily returned the mop to its corner, rolled down his sleeves, and picked up his gloves. Then he stepped outside and waited beside Billy Louise, looking not in the least like a man who has just wiped a lot of dishes and scrubbed a floor.
"Will I ever learn how to take care the right way of of life?" he said under his breath, as he stood up straight and tall with the early light streaming over his great mop of sun-bronzed hair and the bare breast from which his open shirt fell away.
Two of my sections were detached: Corporal Livesey took his bombers with Brogden's platoon to mop up a dug-out beyond Wurst Farm, and Lance-Corporal Heap was sent with his rifle grenadiers to 15 Platoon. On my left was a platoon, commanded by Sergeant Whalley, of the 1/6th Cheshires.
She flung up the veil, and cast her eyes upon him, as if imploring him to withdraw himself and his acoustic magnetism from the atmosphere. Mop opened one of his own orbs, as though for the first time, fixed it peeringly upon her, and smiling dreamily, threw into his strains the reserve of expression which he could not afford to waste on a big and noisy dance.
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