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Updated: May 24, 2025
The little man went into giggling hysterics. The entangled monster failed to extricate himself before he had walloped the tent frenziedly to the edge of the mountain. So it came to pass that three men, clambering up the hill with bundles and baskets, saw their tent approaching. It seemed to them like a white-robed phantom pursued by hornets. Its moans riffled the hemlock twigs.
So she walked mechanically over to the bookstall and hazily glanced at the backs of the new novels, riffled the pages of a magazine; and to this day she cannot recall whether the clerk was a man or a woman, white or brown or yellow, for a hand touched her sleeve lightly, compelling her attention. Dennison's father stood beside her. "Pardon me, but may I ask you a question?"
He read the "want" advertisements carefully, and at length paused at a paragraph which seemed to suit his fancy perfectly. "Cabin stewards wanted White Star Line New York and Liverpool." He cut out the clipping, folded it and stored it away. Then he proceeded to pack up his belongings, not a very laborious affair. Manuscripts. He riffled the pages ruefully.
Each of the photo sheets had a clear, white outline of a test beaker surrounded by a solid field of black. Two of the papers were all white. "I don't believe it, Floyd," the physicist said, running his hands through his hair. "I've seen it, I've done it, I've tested it, proven it, and I still don't believe it." Peterson riffled the sheaf of papers and waited expectantly.
Nor were there any scrolls of vellum with fat beribboned seals in this Judge's hands. Instead, alert slender fingers riffled their way rapidly through a mass of papers that a clerk put before him. Felicia watched the fingers until the close cropped head was lifted and keen gray eyes glanced straight through hers. The abrupt phrase with which he had intended to dismiss her died.
A roulette wheel was spinning at full clip, its little ivory ball dancing merrily, and at other tables were layouts of faro and various games of chance. Cards were being riffled briskly at a poker game near the door, and a little knot of men were in a corner playing California Jack. Kid Wolf took in these details at a glance.
"You could buy a bunch of peanuts with that package, Frank, a million bags at a nickle the bag." This was a hit at Alderson's fondness for munching peanuts, and Alderson's tenor laugh led the trio. Podmore picked up the package and riffled the bills carelessly. "Counted it, J. C.?" "Fifty thousand," nodded Nickleby. "That satchel come, Alderson? Thanks."
"I'll give you several names. You can pick the one you like. They're all good men. There are many good women in the field, too, but in this case, I think a man would be best. Of course, if one of them thinks a woman is indicated, that's up to him. As I said, that isn't my field." He opened the small book and riffled through it to find the names he wanted.
He riffled the close-set edges with a dexterous thumb, took another squint, pursed his lips, said softly "M-m yes, I'm in," dropped two white chips onto the little pile in the centre, then, looking up, laughed tolerantly at Harty. "Rum? Mine's rye, Bud, when there's any choice, but what's wrong with you to-night? Sit down.
"You speak of a party, and that makes me realize the imperative need of improving this golden moment," Stuart Farquaharson announced urbanely, "because I have certain rude and elementary powers of deduction." "Which lead you to what conclusion?" She turned eyes riffled with amusement from the contemplation of a distant sail to his face, and he proceeded to enlighten her. "To two.
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