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Arp, who had little desire to recall such waste of silver, admitted more than he had intended: that he had purchased a ticket and gone in to see the Spotted Wild Boy, halting in his description of this marvel with the unsatisfactory and acrid statement that the Wild Boy was "simply SPOTTED," and the stung query, "I suppose you know what a spot IS, Squire?"
To-night, however, was different, and when Cecil repeated his query half impatiently, Jim nodded. "No. Didn't we tell you? It's the dance in the loft." "Oh don't you people ever dress for dances then?" "Not for these dances," Jim answered. "It's the men's spree all the hands and their friends; and you can be jolly well certain they won't run to dress clothes.
"I wonder who the handsome man was, my dear?" she would query "Perhaps he'll go back to the place and enquire for you. He may be some very great personage!" And Innocent would smile and shake her head. "I fear not, my godmother!" she would reply. "You must not have any fairy dreams about me! I was just a deserted baby not wanted in the world but the world may have to take me all the same!"
Yes, miss, we have a sitting-room and two bedrooms vacant," she answered to Viola's query. "Shall I show them to you?" We passed through a narrow, little hall smelling of new oilcloth into a fair-sized room which possessed one of the casements we had seen from outside and through which came the white glow and scent of the cherry bloom and the song of a thrush.
The four men, four porters with broad shoulders, went and placed themselves without doing anything to attract his attention, behind the table on which the man of the Rue des Billettes was leaning with his elbows. They were evidently ready to hurl themselves upon him. Then Enjolras approached the man and demanded of him: "Who are you?" At this abrupt query, the man started.
A bed was made up for him in the same house by a neighbour, that he might not have to return again the next day; and when he retired to rest in the deserted place it was only to remain awake hour after hour thinking the same thoughts. How to discover a solution to this riddle of death seemed a query of more importance than highest problems of the living.
We were there where the road drops into a rocky hollow near the edge of Butterfield's woods. They used to call it Moosewood Hill because of the abundance of moosewood around the foot of it. How the thought of that broken wheel smote me! It was our only heavy wagon, and we having to pay the mortgage. What would my uncle say? The query brought tears to my eyes.
From the latter part of the month of July 1898, down to the end of the ensuing August, a frequent heading to newspaper telegrams and paragraphs was the query, 'Where is Zola? The wildest suppositions concerning the eminent novelist's whereabouts were indulged in and the most contradictory reports were circulated.
She lay with closed eyelids, the contraction of her nostrils a faint proclamation of life. Again the niece took her place at the headboard, and with folded fingers watched the whispering indications of speedy flight. The maid soon beckoned her from a narrowed door. Aline joined her. "They say that if you don't go down, they will come up." "Who says?" was the stern query.
"He is gone," he muttered, when he had made certain that no object was to be seen. "I might have knowed that before I looked, 'cause the hoss knows how to travel, and Tom's made him do his purtiest." "Hello! what's the news?" The query came from Ned Chadmund, who had aroused himself from slumber, and was standing at his side. "Where is Tom?"
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