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Updated: May 16, 2025
Sometimes, in spite of my most earnest efforts to stop them, they will go on in this foolish way: pretending to be wild and wicked and murderous and all such nonsense, when in reality there is not a single one among them who willingly would hurt a fly. What Miss Mortimer said about smacking you, as I hardly need to explain, was a joke too. Dear Miss Mortimer!
An admirable man, in every way a wonderful organization! With men and agencies like these at work in our interests, what have we, really, to be uneasy about?" Smacking his mental lips, if I may be pardoned the phrase, he once more slowly read the delightful, gratifying news: SOCIALIST WHITE-SLAVER! Rotten Affair Unearthed by Police! Gabriel Armstrong, Socialist Leader, Caught With the Goods!!!
Benn, though I did twist my ankle on that loose piece of carpet last night." The landlady sniffed, and descended to the basement, where she relieved her feelings, and conveyed a moral lesson, by smacking the head of her youngest son, who was not wearing his Band of Hope ribbon.
"Strikes me we arn't done with him yet, and if I might adwise, I should say as Mr Frewen ought to be sent down below with some of his doctor's stuff to pyson that chap like you would a rat, for there'll never be no peace while he's aboard. Hah!" he continued, smacking his lips.
It is no wonder that when there came a vast deal to reprove, the bonne desisted altogether, overwhelmed by the weight of it. Henri got a shock the day before their father died when he saw Fabian lift the brandy used to mix with the milk of the dying man, and pouring out the third of a tumbler, drink it off, smacking his lips as he did so, as though it were a cordial.
"What else?" said Sabatier, shortly, as he strode out of the room and down the stairs. A cry followed him, but he did not stop. "Mercy! I know nothing." A wilder cry, half drowned by savage curses and the sound of blows. Still Sabatier paid no heed. He went into the room below, knocked the neck off a wine bottle and poured the contents into a mug and drank, smacking his lips.
From the road across the Pontine marshes, a carriage drawn by half a dozen horses, came driving at a furious pace the postillions smacking their whips like mad, as is the case when conscious of the greatness or the munificence of their fare. It was a landaulet, with a servant mounted on the dickey.
There was no charm for him in the bigoted ferocity of Calvin's lean, dark face, smacking his thin lips over the roasted Servetus. He abhorred the departed heroes of the golden evolution from Eidegenossen into Higuerios and later Huguenots. They interested him not, neither did he love Professor Calame's scratchy pictures, nor the jumbled bric-a-brac of art and history. None of these charmed him.
"It's a dirty trick," he said, warmly. "I agree with you on that point." "What shall we do about it?" "Lay low, and wait till the whole thing comes out. When Sock discovers his loss, Jim will be on hand to tell him where his wallet is. Then we can up and tell all we know." "Good! There's a jolly row coming!" said Wilkins, smacking his lips.
As I did so I became aware that my eyes were beginning to "see through," and behold! a family of owls was inside. As it was near evening, they were getting wakeful, stirring, smacking their beaks and opening their wings a little from time to time. At last one of them said: "Time's nearly up. Out and about! Out and about!" "Anyone outside?" said another. "No harm there," said the first.
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