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I don't want a week at a time on this; I only want a day now and then." The model went over to her dress and rummaged about in the pockets. "Here," she said, handing him a notebook and diary. He selected a date, and wrote his name and the hour. "Good," said the girl, reading it; and replacing the book, picked up her stockings and slowly began to dress.
On the floor lay a bar of silvery metal about thirty inches long and an inch in diameter. I picked it up and toyed with it idly, meanwhile edging around to get behind the insect which I had marked for my first attentions. Jim was talking again by means of the notebook with his beetle friend. They walked around the ship, examining everything in it. "Are you ready, Pete?" came Jim's voice at last.
Order!" and "Sit down!" and the gavel was rattling on the chairman's desk. Then some one rose to a point of order, so dear to the heart of the negro debater. The point was sustained and the Ohioan yielded the floor, but not until he had gazed straight into the eyes of Miss Kirkman as they rose from her notebook. She turned red.
"There," said Bertrand, "the notebook was picked up on that flat rock which juts out from that narrow ledge. John Walters crawled along the ledge to get it. The handkerchief was caught on that thorn shrub, halfway up, see? And the pencil was picked up down here, somewhere."
I had a note-book that fairly bristled with the names of towns, 'points, bars, islands, bends, reaches, etc.; but the information was to be found only in the notebook none of it was in my head.
To him, she was merely a woman like other women; there was a satisfaction to her in that thought as deep as it was indescribable. The only other occupants of the car were a messenger-boy, lost to his surroundings in a paper-covered novel, and a commercial traveller whose brow was corrugated by mental strain over a notebook. "There are some things I would like to do in New York," she confided.
Terabon's friend the cotton broker fled with the rest, Carline disappeared, but Terabon went to headquarters, writing in his pocket notebook the details of this rare and wonderful tragedy. Policeman Laddam had single-handed charged and captured the last citadel of Mendova vice, and the other policemen, when they looked at him, wore expressions of wonder and bewilderment.
As Kennedy re-entered, Close was buttoning up his coat preparatory to leaving, and Lawrence was lighting a fresh cigar. In his hand Kennedy held a notebook. "My stenographer writes a very legible shorthand; at least I find it so from long practice, I suppose. As I glance over her notes I find many facts which will interest you later at the trial.
He knew every tiniest flower and plant that thrust its head above the leaf-mould. He saw them all, too. Peanuts, his horse, made his own way now, and the naturalist sat a trifle sideways in his saddle and showed me his discoveries. I am no naturalist, so I rode behind him, notebook in hand, and I made a list something like this.
I have ... been having ... nerve-storms ... since ... last ... Saturday...." The policeman fixed his ominous gaze upon her for quite a minute before he wrote something in his notebook. "Is Private Richard 'Iggins in town to-night?" he asked of Lady Arabel in a casual voice. "I suppose so," she replied. "But he has such a dretful habit of disappearing...." The policeman turned to the Mayor.
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