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Updated: May 27, 2025
"Suppose the wild cat had got me, she'd be sorry when she comes, wouldn't she?" There was no reply yet, save by gesture, the language of primitive man; but the big body shivered a little, and the uncouth hand felt for a place in the bed where the lad's knee made a lump under the robe. He felt the little heap tenderly, but the child winced. "S-sh, but that hurts!
Somehow, somewhere, she had managed to come to him, to achieve this rescue.... "Aimée!" He breathed the name. "S-sh!" came a warning little whisper, and impatiently he waited until that opening should be greater and permit of sight and speech. His helplessness was maddening. If only he could raise his hands, could get those bonds off!
Suddenly his arm shot out of the sling, and as suddenly Hiram, though with a wince, swung it around once or twice, and the three splints holding it cracked and split audibly. "Hey, Hiram!" gasped Dave. "S-sh!" uttered his assistant warningly. Hiram ran his free hand down into his pocket. He drew out the big pocket knife he carried.
"I have seen prettier women than she," I replied "'S-sh! Let a fellow listen. She is a dear, all the same. You don't know a good thing when you see it, Levinsky." "Are you in love with her?" "'S-sh! Do let me listen." When the curtain fell he made me applaud her.
Clayton, what have you done?" cried Jane Porter, her heart sinking within her as she realized the probable size of the expenditure that had been made. "S-sh," cautioned Clayton. "Don't let your father guess. If you don't tell him he will never notice, and I simply couldn't think of him living in the terrible squalor and sordidness which Mr. Philander and I found.
"S-SH!" She laid her hand upon my arm, enjoining me to silence. The high, drab brick wall of what looked like some part of a dock building loomed above us in the darkness, and the indescribable stenches of the lower Thames were borne to my nostrils through a gloomy, tunnel-like opening, beyond which whispered the river. The muffled clangor of waterside activity was about us.
“S-sh!” Fatty Coon held up a warning hand. “Who’s that?” he asked, peering down at a dark object at the foot of their tree. Then both he and Solomon saw that it was Tommy Fox, sitting on his haunches and staring at the big head, with its blazing eyes and nose and mouth. “Not looking for chickens, I suppose?” Solomon Owl called in a low tone, which was hardly more than a whisper.
Indeed, a pious matron who happens to come across such a scene will join in the weeping, whether she had ever heard of the deceased or not. On this occasion, however, sobs were conspicuous by their absence "'S-sh! 's-sh! None of your wailing!" an old man kept admonishing the women Among these was the Pole. This time my rival begged my forgiveness.
The girl looked up through her tears. "S-sh!" she exclaimed. "It is all right. Wait." And at that instant Clif heard a key turn in the door, and knew that it was the man returning. Clif gazed into the girl's face and he saw a look of joy upon it that partially reassured him; then he looked up and saw that the Spanish lieutenant had entered and was watching them.
The next evening we were in the theater, and when she appeared on the stage and shot a glance to the gallery Jake nudged me violently "But she does not know we are in the gallery," I argued. "She must think we are in the orchestra." "Hearts are good guessers." "Guessers nothing." " 'S-sh! Let's listen." Madame Klesmer was playing the part of a girl in a modern Russian town.
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