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Updated: May 19, 2025
"No, Mem-sahib. Ahmed will have me carried to within a few yards of the gate, and after that it will be easy to find Durga Ram. Ah, Mem-sahib, if you but knew how I hate him!" After Pundita had departed Ahmed brought in the leopard. Kathlyn petted it and crooned, and the magic timbre of her tones won over the spotted cat. He purred. And now they must wait. An hour flew past.
I felt during this period as though I was shut in the same cage with a capricious tiger, who one moment purred and fawned on me and the next showed his teeth with horrid snarls, nor was there ever a day on which I could feel secure that I should not be delivered to the executioner before the sun set.
The cat watched his departure with philosophic composure. Like many fair ladies, she had thought chiefly of herself during the interview with the stranger, from whom she had managed to secure a little agreeable attention without giving anything in return; and, now that it was over, she complacently purred herself to sleep, with nothing to regret. "Hullo! you're here yet, eh!" said Mr.
And the minute she found herself really rescued, and out where the sun and wind, her well-known friends, were larking about among the tombstones, she laid her cheek as affectionately against her father's head as if she were a daughter to be proud of, and would have purred if she had had had a purr as loudly as the most satisfied and virtuous of cats.
"So," said Adam Craig, "you are a famous painter!" "I am a painter," said Kenny stiffly. "With medals," purred Adam. "With medals." A fit of coughing seemed for an interval to threaten the old man's very life. "Yonder in the closet," he said huskily, "is a bottle and some glasses. Bring them here." Kenny obeyed. "Sit down."
"Outside of Boswell and he was a fool I've never known anybody who thought he amounted to much." The Suffragist looked up. "Nelson had his Southey, Boswell had his Johnson, and Mr. Modern Best-seller may well profit by their example." And she smiled grimly. The Author's lip lifted. "Oh, but you couldn't do it!" he purred.
Yes, that old wreck yonder has had a good deal to do with my own life. I received my first boost upward in the Golden Bough. Shipped in the foc'sle, and ended the voyage in the cabin. Stepped into dead man's shoes. And more important than that I won my manhood on those old decks." "Ah, performed some valorous deed?" purred the writing guy.
The companions set out that very night on their adventure. They crossed the river as the cat had suggested, and Blackfoot really enjoyed the swim, for, as he said, it took him back to his puppyhood, while the cat did not get a single drop of water on her face. It was midnight when they reached the Chu house. "Just wait till I return," purred Whitehead in Blackfoot's ear.
"I'm serious, all right," Tommy purred, and I knew, from the unusually soft quality of his voice, that, indeed, he was "for, if you don't believe in ghosts, you believe we're a bunch of damn crooks oh, yes you do! and I may say that if you don't, you're a damn fool. Now you see how serious I am, and how serious this affair is!
Lydia sprang up, with an exclamation of annoyance, and went to the rescue. Dear, dear! the longest and best notice, which spoke of her work as "agreeable and scholarly, showing, at tunes, more than a touch of high talent" was quietly floating away. She must get it back. Her mother had not yet read it not yet purred over it.
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