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It had thrilled her, but the thrill had vanished and the concrete personality of the man was dominating her mind and not very pleasantly. There was nothing in his manner or his words to give offence; he was quite pleasant and nice but but well, it was almost as though she had met some one whom she had known and liked and who had changed.

He looked up to see Elizabeth coming back towards him unaccompanied. Captain Dell and Sir Henry seemed to have left her. A thrill of excitement ran through him. They were alone in the depths of the spring woodland. What better opportunity would he ever have?

"Original?" said Average Jones, eying the diagram on the envelope's back, with his quaint smile. "Why, Governor, you're giving me too much credit. It was worked out by one of the greatest detectives of all time, some two thousand years ago. His name was Euclid." To this day, Average Jones maintains that he felt a distinct thrill at first sight of the advertisement.

But instead of that he took the silken braid gently in his two hands and crushed it against his lips. "I love you," he cried softly. "I love you." He stood for a moment or two with his head bowed, the thrill of her hair against his face. It was as if he was receiving some kind of a wonderful benediction. And then in a voice that trembled a little she spoke to him.

Stanhope's waiting contract made a limit to the time a limit she brought up against without distress or shock, but with a kind of recognising thrill in contact at last with the necessity for action, decision, a climax of high heart-beats.

When Julie went to the piano to sing Desdemona's song, the men in the rooms flocked about her to hear the celebrated voice so long mute, and there was a deep silence. The Marquise saw the heads clustered thickly in the doorways, saw all eyes turned upon her, and a sharp thrill of excitement quivered through her.

I can never forget my thrill when she replied, "Yes; and I am proud to say that I am that man's daughter." Sir Moses Montefiore was born in 1784, and died in 1885. It is a disheartening fact for the teetotallers that he had drunk a bottle of port wine every day since he grew up. He had dined with Lord Nelson on board his ship, and vividly remembered the transcendent beauty of Lady Hamilton.

Presently he turned away, leaving one lamp still burning in the room, softly unlocked the hall door, took his hat and went out. He walked up and down the wood-path or sat on the bench there for some time, thinking indeed, but thinking with a certain stern practical dryness. Whenever he felt the thrill of feeling stealing over him again, he would make a sharp effort at repression.

Yet he was fain, after a few visits, and no progress for the better, to confess that these little lives hang by a slender thread. "The little fellow has a noble frame and an excellent constitution," he said; "I hope we shall save him." Save him! An icy thrill went through Clarissa's veins. Save him! Was there any fear of losing him? O God, what would her life be without that child?

Something that was like a thrill of fear, mental, not physical, went through her, but she kept her eyes steadily on his, as if, despite the fear, she fought against him. The contest of the beggars had become so passionate that Count Anteoni's commands were forgotten. Urged by the pressure from behind those in the front scrambled or fell over the sacred threshold.