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Updated: May 26, 2025
In Oxford Street, at that hour silent and deserted, I drew up, and, taking a piece of paper from my notebook, I wrote down the figures "99," and, placing it in a small envelope which I fortunately found in my wallet, I addressed it to Madame Duperré, and left it with the night porter at the Carlton, urging him to give it to her immediately on her return.
Rick had a hunch there was a pattern shaping up, but he could not be sure until the information was all laid out for examination. By the time the boys met Steve at the small airport, both Rick and Scotty had writer's cramp, and the notebook was nearly used up. They had recorded over half a hundred sightings. Steve listened to a report of their day with an appreciative smile.
He looked over her shoulder at the notebook, where a series of dashes, angles, hooks and dots was forming with great rapidity. "You don't mean to say " "No, I mean to write, and let you do the saying. Go ahead, sir only be sure you say something worth while." "But you didn't have that accomplishment when we worked together last summer." "How I did wish I had, though!
I thought it wise to see the venerable Scindia alone, and accordingly sent Parinama out of the room with the interpreter. As before; I give you what passed between us as I jotted it down in my notebook. Q. You are a friend of Rama Ragobah, are you not? A. No, Sahib; he has no friends. Q. You speak as if you disliked him. A. It is not Mono Scindia's habit to play the hypocrite.
Trevor opened the notebook and began to read what he had written. He finished the paragraph which owed its insertion to Clowes, and raced hurriedly on to the next. To his surprise the flippancy passed unnoticed, at any rate, verbally. As a rule the headmaster preferred that quotations from back numbers of Punch should be kept out of the prefects' English Essays. And he generally said as much.
Incidentally he had a notebook and pencil. What more did a man need to make life worth while? And then, somewhere along the southern highway Cheyenne was jogging with Filaree and Joshua: Seems like I don't git anywhere: Git along, cayuse, git along. Bartley rose and stepped to the window. San Andreas drowsed in the noon sun.
He stopped thinking about the multiple mystery, a solution to which seemed to dance maddeningly just out of his mental reach, and found himself a place among the rocks to wait, and while he waited, he looked over the plastileather-bound notebook. In civil life, he had been a high school chemistry teacher, but the stuff in this book was utterly new to him.
"I'd be dead, I think," she surmised, "and one day, I did deliberately choose." "How was that?" "Get your notebook!" she jeered. "I thought if he was going to rely on the specious joys of liquor I would, and tried it. It was a blizzard day last winter. He had gone over to see the widow, and there was a bottle of rum in the cupboard. I took some hot milk, nutmeg, sugar, and rum.
Through the art of writing Occidental peoples have found a cheaper way of retaining their history and of preserving the products of their poets and religious teachers. Even for the transactions of daily life we have resorted to the constant use of pen and notebook and typewriter, by these devices saving time and strength for other things.
Allons infants dee la Pat-ree, La joor de glory is arrivay." Such bits of conversation may be of little interest, but they have the merit of being genuine. All of them were jotted down in my notebook at the times when I heard them. The following day we crowded into the typical French army troop train, eight chevaux or forty hommes to a car, and started on a leisurely journey to the firing-line.
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