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I was living at the same boarding-house in Bloomsbury what I'd lived at for the past ten years, and when I got there I find her letter shoved half under my door. I can tell you every word of it. This is how it went: Darling Uncle Bill, Don't be too sorry when you read this. It is nobody's fault, but I am just tired of everything, and I want to end it all.
Scott Parsons was sitting by the table, hat on the back of his head, spurred boots on the cold stove hearth. Mrs. Falkner was just finishing the supper dishes. She greeted Douglas with a tired smile. Douglas, with a resentful glance at Scott, shifted his gun belt, shoved his own hat to the back of his head, and sat down. Mrs.
But the reckless passing of a truck, beyond the second line of rails, frightened a group of country women who were in course of passage; they were just in front of Bibbs, and shoved backward upon him violently.
Just at that moment a figure was seen bounding down from a neighbouring height. In an instant, with a knife, he cut the painter securing the skiff to the shore. A pair of paddles were in the skiff. He leaped in and shoved off from the bank. Mrs Barton knew him, and so did Fanny. "It's Frank Carlton!" they exclaimed. "Oh, blessings on him! May God protect him!"
Young Guerin had no time to jump. He had work to do. His left hand fell from the whistle-rope to the air-brake, and it was applied even while his right hand shoved the throttle home, and opened the sand-valves and then the crash came.
The man's hands flew up, but not in time to block the vicious blow which caught him full on the chin. Weasel-face's legs collapsed. Without a sound he fell in a heap upon the rocks. Holding Dickie Lang in his great arms, the red-bearded man saw his companion fall by his side. With a snarl he released the struggling girl and shoved her from him.
His voice betrayed the boldness of his action. It was over in a few moments. The tables and chairs were tumbled into a heap; one of the pool tables had been shoved aside; a lamp lay shattered, with oil running dark upon the floor. Ladd leaned against a post with a smoking gun in his hand. A Mexican crouched close to the wall moaning over a broken arm.
It might have been more convenient if he had turned Peter around, and got him by the back of his coat-collar; but he evidently held Peter's physical being as a thing too slight for consideration he just kept his grip in the bosom of Peter's jacket, and half lifted him and half shoved him back out of the room, and down a long passage to the back part of the building.
Then when the full import of Doc Coffin's words had percolated through and through his brain he pulled himself to a sitting posture and swung a leg to the floor. Doc Coffin was beside him instantly. "Lie down, you idjit!" commanded Doc Coffin, and with no gentle hand shoved Bull down upon his pillow. "Whadda you think yo're gonna do?" "I'm goin' out and fill that full of lead." "Oh, you are, huh?
Far in the rear King and the Pathan shoved and hauled and nearly lost their horse a dozen times at that. But once at the top the mullah set a furious pace and the laden women panted in their efforts to keep up, the men taking less notice of them than if they had been animals. The march went on in single file until the sun died down in splendid fury.
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