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Updated: April 30, 2025
May be ye'd like to see it, Miss Sophy? Guess my old woman wouldn't have no use for it as it don't seem to have any picters in it." He was about to place it on the counter when one of the men took it from his hand and held it under the hanging oil lamp. "Why!" he chuckled, somewhat raspingly. "It's just what Sophy needs real bad. Ye wants ter study that real careful, Sophy.
The question had become raspingly monotonous to me, whom he addressed, and I replied with marked acerbity: "Because we are the Northern mudsills whom you affect to despise, and we came down here to lick you into respecting us." The answer seemed to tickle him, a pleasanter light came into his sinister gray eyes, he laughed lightly, and bade us a kindly good day.
It seemed marvellous beyond understanding that such perfection could exist, and I thought how wonderful it must be to be God and see His creatures rising now and again to such heights. And then I came to a station where there was to be a very long wait, and I went to an inn for a meal. It was a dirty neglected place, with a sullen unwashed man at the door, who called raspingly to his wife within.
The hand that held the tobacco pouch shook a bit now involuntarily, and a tiny puff of the brown flakes fell scattering outside the bowl onto his knee. "About a month ago" the speaker cleared his throat raspingly "on August 16th it was, to be exact, there was a funeral in town. It started from the C-C ranch house and ended in the same lot with Mary Landor. It wasn't much of a funeral, either.
Demarest put up a hand to conceal his smile over the police official's chagrin. Gilder, staring always at this woman who had come to be his Nemesis, was marveling over the beauty and verve of the one so hating him as to plan the ruin of his life and his son's. Burke was frantic over being worsted thus. To gain a diversion, he reverted to his familiar bullying tactics. His question burst raspingly.
And the Reverend Julius demands, with resentful acerbity: "What are you staring at? Do you imagine that the colour of my cloth debars me from from taking the part of a lady whose name has been dragged before the public? I shall call at the office where this rag is published, and insist upon a contradiction of this this canard!" "Don't you know who edits the rag?" asks Saxham raspingly.
Gaily he caught her in his arms. His transport was rudely interrupted, though, by Kreutzer's voice, this time so harsh, so stern, so utterly unlike the old flute-player's usual genial tone that he was startled. "But I, sir," he said raspingly, "I I have, myself, something to say." He paid no heed to them but went firmly to the kitchen door. "Anna, Anna," he called sternly. "Come, I want you.
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