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Updated: May 19, 2025
The oil-stove glowed and purred like a large tin pussy cat; it toasted their legs into dreamy comfort, while they methodically stuffed themselves with toast and waffles and coffee.
"No one ain't a-goin' to, Tom," said the one-eyed man soothingly, "not a soul, Lord bless you!" "I only wish they would," growled Cragg. "Ain't there nobody to obleege the gentleman?" inquired the red-headed man. "I'd fight any man as ever was born wish I may die!" snorted Cragg. "You always was so fiery, Tom!" purred the one-eyed man, blinking his pale orb.
Before he had ended, Mrs. Carshaw was weeping again, but this time it was out of sympathy with Winifred. Next morning, although it was Sunday, her smart limousine took her to the Tower's house. Mrs. Tower was at home. "I have heard dreadful things about you, Sarah," she purred. "What on earth is the matter? Why have you given up your place on Long Island?" "A whim of Rex's, my dear.
The silent, hurried sailors pressed on with their work, while the big barque purred through the water to the drone of wind thrusting in the canvas. The brooms were abaft of the galley when the outcry began which caused them to look apprehensively towards the poop without ceasing their business of washing down.
Perchance this virgin cat dreamed of some gallant young Tom wooing her bed; perchance these ticklings had their deliciously transfigured place in her visions; perchance she only purred. Now George tucked her beneath his arm. Legs dangled wretchedly; gallant young Tom leapt from her dreams and she awoke. She stirred. George had a foot upon the window-sill, and the night air ruffled her downy coat.
At a little inn in Canterbury. Yes, I remember it all now. I'm glad my memory does not play me tricks." His grasp tightened on Wilfer's sleeve. "I don't like tricks," he purred. "How strange that we should meet again. I think at that time you were an artist; yes, that is what you called yourself, and there was a pretty little girl with you, and you called her your wife.
The hot color in the Captain's bronzed cheeks mounted to his hair. "Exactly," purred the Tracer, looking out of the window. "Suppose we walk around to your rooms after luncheon. Shall we?" Harren picked up his hat and gloves, hesitating, lingering on the threshold. "You don't think she is a dead?" he asked unsteadily. "No," said Mr. Keen, "I don't."
Wonder of wonders! when Lizina came out of the jar she shone from head to foot like the sun in the heavens on a fine summer's day. Her pretty pink cheeks and long black hair alone kept their natural colour, otherwise she had become like a statue of pure gold. Father Gatto purred loudly with satisfaction.
The Lion would have preferred a bed of dried leaves in the forest, and did not like being shut up in a room; but he had too much sense to let this worry him, so he sprang upon the bed and rolled himself up like a cat and purred himself asleep in a minute.
Here ticked her clock, and purred her cat; here blossomed her geraniums and balsams, with the Bible and Prayer-book lying between them. The three light and pleasant rooms intended for the daughters lay in the story above, and were simply but prettily furnished. "Here they will feel themselves quite at home," said the father, as he looked round with beaming eyes; "don't you think so, Elise?
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