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Why! there are people even wicked enough to connect her with that that awful Thing we know of," and the girl dropped her voice and looked suddenly around her, as though she feared an unseen presence. "As though she were a werwolf," she added, with a shudder. "Pooh!" and Ruth Fielding laughed. "Nobody in their senses would connect Madame la Countess with such tales, having once seen her."
He took small interest in the war at times he seemed almost unconscious of the suffering around him but he enjoyed his chats with Union officers upon the road, who occasionally capped his stories of big sport with tales of mountain trout which they had drawn from Northern streams.
The ghostly spirit which ran through our house, first had free outlet down in the servants' hall, when the men and maids, and the wayfarers who were putting up for the night, sat in the evening in the red glow from the stove, and told all kinds of tales about shipwrecks and ghosts.
'If, argued Slivers to himself, as he pegged bravely along, 'if Villiers wanted to get rid of the nugget he'd have come to me, for he knew I'd keep quiet and tell no tales. Well, he didn't come to me, and there's no one else he could go to.
She is exposed to the monster, but the hero of the tale, generally a young man of humble birth, interposes in her behalf, slays the monster, and receives the hand of the princess as his reward. In many of the tales the monster, who is sometimes described as a serpent, inhabits the water of a sea, a lake, or a fountain.
Jacqueline, sitting beside her as she sewed, was soothed by her old nursery tales, or by anecdotes of former days. Her own relatives were often the old woman's theme. She knew the history of Jacqueline's family from beginning to end; but, wherever her story began, it invariably wound up with: "If only your poor papa had not made away with all your money!"
They were only too glad, for with the family out, the ell, which was not commanded by our fire, offered a tempting mark for the incendiary. Hardly had the Tales left than the flames began to climb the ell. There was another parley. Could we have twenty minutes? Ten? Five? Back came the answer: “You have one minute.
I'm a baggage," she resumed slowly. "Oh yes, the future father-in-law will have to be dragged from between my claws! Dear me, dear me, for a fellow with NOUS, you're jolly stupid! What! D'you mean to say you're going to tell your tales to a man who adores me and tells me everything? Now just listen: you shall marry if I wish it, my little man!"
"Not so fast, Walter," he cautioned as we spun along in a taxicab. "Our case isn't very complete against anybody yet." "But it looks black for Guerrero," I admitted. "Dead men tell no tales even to clear themselves." "It all depends on speed now," he answered laconically.
His happiest success is in the tales and apologues which illustrate the adventures that constitute a framework for his poetry, which is natural and spirited; and in this, as in other points, he strikingly resembles Chaucer.
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