Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 13, 2025
The man was dying at his ear. Lying his length upon the boy, he shuddered from head to heel. "Marie," he sighed. There was a last ripple of life, and the boy knew he was holding earth. He wriggled out into the light with throbbing temples. His hand and shirt-cuff caught his eye. He started back. They followed him. He tried to fling his hand away. It would not be flung.
Mortimer, I will be much obliged to you if you will call upon me here, and it will be of help to me in my plans for the future if you will bring Sir Henry Baskerville with you." "I will do so, Mr. Holmes." He scribbled the appointment on his shirt-cuff and hurried off in his strange, peering, absent-minded fashion. Holmes stopped him at the head of the stair. "Only one more question, Dr. Mortimer.
"I certainly don't see why he should be inconvenienced and kept out of his bed by that swanker, who has probably gone off with some pal and hasn't had the decency to leave word to that effect. Bad style of man altogether. Hullo! What's this?" "What's the matter?" Gifford crossed to Kelson, who was looking at his shirt-cuff. "What's this?" A dark red streak was on the white linen.
How you would do it I haven't the faintest idea." It was at this point in the conversation that Clovis became galvanized into alert attention. After all, his two days' visit to an elderly relative at Slowborough did not promise much excitement. Before the train had stopped he had decorated his sinister shirt-cuff with the inscription, "J. P. Huddle, The Warren, Tilfield, near Slowborough."
"And I'm so glad you've come at last," she went on. "Fred has told me how you wanted to draw and couldn't. I know something myself of what it is to hunger after a thing and not get it." He was on his feet now, the bit of charcoal still between his fingers, his shirt-cuff rolled back to give his hand more freedom.
I gazed back at her incredulously. "Impossible," I answered, shaking my head. "It belongs as clear as day to the man you see in the photograph. How on earth could his hand be a woman's then, I'd like to know? I can see the shirt-cuff."
He carries his hat in his hand, displays much shirt-cuff; and the bell-shaped cut of the trouser lying over his dainty boot makes his foot look preciously small. These figures, both life-size, stand in an arched recess, and show to the best advantage.
One eager group surrounded a foreseeing youth who had written the dates of the first four General Councils of the Church upon his shirt-cuff. 'Read them out, like a good man, said one. 'Hold on a minute, said another, 'till I see if I have got them right. I ground them up specially this morning. Nicæa, 318 no, hang it! that's the number of Bishops who were present; 325 was the date, wasn't it?
What it is called I cannot for the life of me remember. They gave it a kind of lingering name, which I wrote down on my shirt-cuff. The name or characteristics of the thing, however, do not matter a fig. I have always hated people who talked about their insides, and I am not going to talk about mine, even to myself. Clearly, if it is only going to last me six months, it is not worth talking about.
There were several which ranked about the same, and scribbling three or four names on his shirt-cuff, he rushed off to find the first. "Got any gold handbags?" he asked in a low voice, as if he had something to conceal. "Kind made of chain, with diamonds and sapphires along the top."
Word Of The Day
Others Looking