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Updated: April 30, 2025
It was about ten o'clock in the morning, and the grounds were almost entirely deserted. Only a single pedestrian, a young man elegantly attired, lounged along slowly, and to the casual observer, purposelessly. But he was on the lookout for some one, for he glanced with unconcealed impatience toward the winding walks which led direct from the city.
He had a distinct consciousness of the fate that was in reserve for the army of Chalons, deprived of its commander, destitute of any guiding principle of action, dragged purposelessly in this direction and in that, while the Germans went straight and swift to their preconcerted end with mechanical precision and directness.
Or was it a providential suggestion sent by an all-pitying Father to this desolate and wandering lamb? Thus time slipped by uneventfully, as far as external circumstances were concerned, but not purposelessly.
You wanted to consult my father about them, I fancy, and, if I remember, you returned them to your pocket. Bommaney stood looking about him on the floor, trailing the point of his walking-cane purposelessly hither and thither; and it was at this moment, seeing how confused and broken his victim seemed, that young Mr. Barter tasted the first flavour of safety. 'I don't see anything, he said.
In his strange mental condition even the change from Harkutt's feeble candle to the outer darkness for a moment blinded Elijah Curtis, yet it was part of that mental condition that he kept moving steadily forward as in a trance or dream, though at first purposelessly. Then it occurred to him that he was really looking for his horse, and that the animal was not there.
There was nothing there. He moved away to the right and ran in amongst the low-growing bush, only to reappear with more feverish haste, and eyes whose fiery glance seemed to shoot in every direction at once. On he went, round the edge of the entire clearing; in and out, like some madman running purposelessly in search of some phantasy of his brain.
On one point only they were right, the old dogma, the old, old cry, old as the institution of police, older than that, old since time immemorial CHERCHEZ LA FEMME! Quite right but also quite purposeless! Jimmie Dale's eyes grew wistful. He had been "hunting for the woman in the case" himself, now, for months and years indefatigably, using every resource at his command quite purposelessly.
Whilst thus thinking vaguely, purposelessly, but still most miserably, I was aroused from reverie by the noise of a door being shut cautiously and carefully an outer door, and yet one with the sound of which I was unacquainted. Hurrying across the hall, I flung the hall-door wide, and looked out into the night.
How else could the few rule the many? . . . He came down, across Parliament Square, to the river at last, walking swiftly and purposelessly. A high gateway, with a guard-room on either side, spanned the entrance to the wide bridge that sprang across to Southwark, and an officer stepped out as he approached, saluted, and waited. "I want to breathe and look at the river," he said sharply.
It yawed, now toward him, now away, purposelessly, like a ship in distress. It made an abrupt downward plunge that scraped a crag, and just missed a canyon wall. Again it twisted, came down with a long, twisting motion, struck a rock upside down, slitting a long gash in its skin, clattered to the rocks so close to the fortress that Sime could not see it.
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