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Updated: June 3, 2025
"By organizing a committee of one hundred to cover the city and make a scientific campaign." "Are you going to let people know that it's typhus?" "Sh-sh-sh! So you know, do you? Well, the important thing now is to see that others don't find out. Don't even whisper the word. Malaria's our cue; pernicious malaria. What's the use of scaring every one to death?
"Stuff, Gertrude," said Agatha, with a touch of earnestness. "One would think, to hear you talk, that your grandmother was a cook. Don't be such a snob." "Miss Wylie," said Gertrude, becoming scarlet: "you are very oh! oh! Stop Ag oh! I will tell Miss oh!" Agatha had inserted a steely finger between her ribs, and was tickling her unendurably. "Sh-sh-sh," whispered Miss Carpenter anxiously.
It was a chest where the priests' robes were kept. "Do you suppose we could move it?" whispered Daphne. "If we could, maybe we could look out of the window and see where we are." They both got on the same side of it and pushed with all their strength. The chest moved a little and made a horrible screeching sound on the stone floor. "Sh-sh-sh," whispered Daphne, as if the chest could hear.
That dog would never leave me while he had breath in his body; and when he did n't come back, after he had chivied the horses, I might have" "Sh-sh-sh!" whispered Stevenson. And, following the direction of his look, we discerned the approaching figure of a man on horseback. "Ben Cartwright," observed Baxter, after a pause. "Anybody else comin', I wonder?
Then, sometimes, there is a synopsis of the story published. But it will be too late, then. Especially when I have no notes of my work, nor any witnesses. I told no living soul about the scenario what it was about, or " "Sh-sh-sh " "Why, Heavy!" murmured the scandalized Ruth. "Sh-sh-sh whoo!" breathed the plump girl, with complete abandon.
When Lady Archibald Campbell sat for her portrait Lord Archibald was quite uncomfortable at the idea, and made certain that it was a condescension, not a commission. The painting was duly completed, received its due of scathing criticism, and became famous. At this the lady, meeting the artist, remarked: "I hear my portrait has been exhibited everywhere and become famous." "Sh-sh-sh!" he said.
"What kind of a hotel is this, anyway? Scrub-girls waking people up in the middle of the night with a Polish cabaret. If she wants to sing her hymn of hate why does she have to pick on me!" "I'm sorry. You can go, Anna. No sing, remember! Sh-sh-sh!" Anna Czarnik nodded and made her unwieldy escape. Geisha McCoy waved a hand at the mulatto maid. "Go to your room, Blanche.
Claude! a new pen!" The stranger made his choice among the books. "Chil'run, he has select' the book of Sidonie!" Bonaventure reached and swung a chair into place at his desk. The visitor sat down. Bonaventure stood over him, gazing down at the hand that poised the pen. The silence was profound. "Chil'run sh-sh-sh!" said the master, lifting his left arm but not his eyes.
"Sh-sh-sh..." whispered Candeille eagerly, as she approached quite close to Marguerite and drew her hood still lower over her eyes. "I am all alone ... I wanted to see someone you if possible, Lady Blakeney... for I could not rest... I wanted to know what had happened." "What had happened? When? I don't understand." "What happened between Citizen Chauvelin and your husband?" asked Candeille.
Pierre thrust him back violently and angrily, just as the child sat up with a shrill cry. The savage hesitated, impressed by Pierre's uncompromising attitude, then turned with a grunt to seek satisfaction elsewhere. The child was apparently five or six years old, but a tiny, fairylike creature. "Sh-sh-sh!" said Pierre, soothingly, taking it for granted that she would not understand French.
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