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The attack started at dawn and soon afterwards the valley past Fosse Wood was thronged with Whippet tanks and cavalry, waiting in case of a possible "break-through." It was the first time most of us had seen Cavalry in action, and they made an imposing sight as they filed along the valley in the morning mist.
Little Miss Whippet, although she was fast at typewriting, was hard put to it to keep up with his correspondence. She quivered eagerly over her machine, her small paws flying. New pink ribbons gleamed through her translucent summery georgette blouse. They were her flag of exultation at her surprising rise in life. She felt it was immensely important to get all these letters answered promptly.
What I am getting at is this: in everyone I have ever known Fuji, Mr. Poodle, Mrs. Spaniel, those maddening delightful puppies, Mrs. Purp, Mr. Beagle, even Mrs. Chow and Mrs. Sealyham and little Miss Whippet I have always been aware that there was some mysterious point of union at which our minds could converge and entirely understand one another.
Her madness was upon him her splendid craze of haste, ambition, pride. Yet he wondered. This God he needed, this liberating horizon, was it after all in the cleverest of hiding-places in himself? Was it in his own undeluded heart? Miss Whippet came scurrying in to say that the Display Manager begged him to attend a conference.
Bill Pearson was the breeder of Tim, who was considered the best terrier of his time, a dog of 14 lb., with a brilliant white coat, the darkest of eyes, and a perfect black nose. It is apparent that the Whippet was largely used as a cross with the English Terrier, which may account to a great extent for the decline of terrier character in the breed.
He scribbled a note on the back of a sales slip and left it at Miss Whippet's post by the stocking counter. It said: MISS WHIPPET: Show Mrs. Sealyham some of the bisque sports hose, Scotch wool, size 9. She's coming to-morrow. Don't let her get size 8 1/2. They shrink. At the door he paused, relit his pipe leisurely, raised his hat to the superintendent, and strolled away.
I want to get him to the surgeons as soon as possible " "You bet!" said Casson, wheeling his horse and displaying the new chevrons of a sergeant. "Hey, you black offspring of a yellow whippet!" he bellowed to a driver, "back out there and be damn quick about it!" And he leaned from his saddle, and seizing the leaders by the head, swung them around with a volley of profanity.
Twice during the journey to Pnom-Penh I saw tracks of elephant herds on the road it looked as though a fleet of whippet tanks had passed. Nevertheless, I should have put mental question-marks after some of the big game stories I heard while I was in Indo-China had I not been convinced of the credibility of those who told them.
Over the broad, blue shoulder of the policeman directly in front of me, I glimpsed a wicked-looking little whippet tank with two very conscious British officers just head and shoulders out. Still further down were three covered motor lorries that had been used to convey the soldiers. Sean, for the especial benefit of constable just ahead: "Wars for democracy and small nations!
Colour in the Whippet is absolutely of no importance to a good judge, though possibly what is known as the peach fawn is the favourite among amateur fanciers. Red fawns, blue or slate coloured, black, brindled of various shades, and these colours intermingled with white, are most to be met with, however.
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