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I," he shouted triumphantly, "I was Lover." Hooting laughter greeted him. "But just the same," contended Barrows, "regardless of the feeble fabrications of senile minds, there are ghosts none the less.
One passer-by repeated it to another, and friend shouted to friend across the street. "Have you heard the news?" was the almost invariable question when people accosted one another, and at least one "Thank God!" was contained in every conversation.
At the jetty-head we could see a large crowd waiting to receive us, and as we passed a stentorian voice shouted, "Ahoy! Have you got them two boys on board?" "Ay, ay!" cried the coxswain; "safe and sound the rascals!" Rascals, indeed!
But he still tried to find it out, with his brutish obstinacy, and, as it were, scratched her heart to discover her secret, just like a terrier scratches at a hole, to try and get at the animal which he scents in it. Suddenly, however, the man shouted: "By George! It is Jacques, the man who was here last year.
"What art muttering, beast? Hang him!" shouted he, as the by-standers fell on their knees before the tyrant, crouching in terror, every woman for her husband, every man for wife and daughter. "And hearken, you fen-frogs all.
They had just started to return when they heard steps in the wood, and a moment later her name was called in Dick Benyon's voice. Marchmont shouted in answer, "Here we are," and Dick came along the path. "I couldn't think where you'd got to," he said. "That's because you've no romance in you," said May. "Or you'd have known we should be wandering in the wood in the moonlight.
To Sanborn, who had finished his job and was straddling wide-legged toward the group, Kirby threw up a hand of greeting. "Good work, old-timer. You're sure hellamile on a bronc." "Kirby Lane on Wild Fire," shouted the announcer. Lane slid from the fence and reached for his saddle. As he lounged forward, moving with indolent grace, one might have guessed him a Southerner.
"`Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast, The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood!" "Hullo, Lorton!" shouted out Mr Mawley again close at my back, when I had believed him to be some distance off. "Hullo, Lorton! Don't you get into heroics, my boy.
But the emotion which pain and suffering and danger could not develop, joy could, and boys sang, and shouted and cried, and danced as if in a delirium. "God's country," fairer than the sweet promised land of Canaan appeared to the rapt vision of the Hebrew poet prophet, spread out in glad vista before the mind's eye of every one.
"That I?" cried the steward trembling with rage and stepping close up to the Emperor. "That you," shouted Hadrian in his face, "tried to sell this picture to this man; in short that you are a simpleton and a scoundrel into the bargain." "I I," gasped Keraunus slapping his hand on his fat chest. "I a a but you shall repent of these words."
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