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Again the girl's eyes lifted just a bit over-intently from the work in her lap. "What color is the wall-paper in your own room?" she asked casually. "Is it is it a dear pinkie-posie sort of effect? Or just plain shaded stripes?" "Why, I'm sure I don't remember," acknowledged Barton worriedly. "Why, it's just paper, you know paper," he floundered helplessly.

"But, Arabella" her brow puckered worriedly "if no one knows, how are you going to do it?" "I'm going to write and tell him to come for me, and never let on to any one, an' we'll we'll what do you call it when they run away?" "Not elope, Arabella!" cried Elsie in dismay. "Yes, that's it. We'll elope," said Miss Arabella calmly.

"Indeed, if you can stay it is most fortunate for Mrs. Graham. Good trained nurses are at a premium just now, and great care will be necessary in this case to prevent disfigurement!" A quick, stifled exclamation of dismay came from Dicky. "Is there any danger of her face being scarred?" he asked worriedly.

"I do wish, Dorothy, that you would cease your harping on the same old subject!" he cried, worriedly. "You annoy me so!" "Annoy you?" whispered Dorothy, half under her breath. "Why, I did not know that we could say anything to those we love which could make them vexed at us, because I thought we were: "'Two souls with but a single thought, Two hearts that beat as one.

With a stiffened forefinger, he poked it into different positions. It was time to begin therapy. Except that.... Caswell realized worriedly that he didn't want to lose the desire to kill Magnessen. What would become of him if he lost that urge? His life would lose all purpose, all coherence, all flavor and zest. It would be quite dull, really.

The guests soon began to stream in, but half an hour went by, and Lester Morris and his fellow musicians had not arrived. "I'd better phone his house," Tom decided worriedly. Mrs. Morris answered. She seemed surprised at Tom's call. "Why, my husband's playing at a party over in Carterton this evening," she said. "Are you sure you engaged him for tonight?" "I'm positive," Tom replied.

"The Connie saw it," Rip said worriedly, "but didn't blast away. That means he's intending to ambush the Scorpius. Koa, if he does, that means war." The tall officer shook his head. "Sir, the Connie has guided missiles with atomic warheads, just as our ship has. If he can launch one from ambush and hit our ship, that's the end of it. The Scorpius will be nothing but space junk.

Sid Hahn flushed uncomfortably. "Well, if you must know, I gave it away." "To whom?" "To to Josie Fifer. She took a notion to it, and so I told her she could have it." Then, as Sarah Haddon rose, dried her eyes, and began to straighten her hat: "Where are you going?" He trailed her to the door worriedly. "Now, Sally, don't do anything foolish. You're just tired and overstrung. Where are you "

"I shall ask for clarification of your status," he said worriedly. "It shouldn't have been left unclear. I'd better attend to it at once." He looked at Joe as if expecting a salute. He didn't get it. He clanked away, his magnetic shoe-soles beating out a singularly martial rhythm. He must have practised that walk, in private.

"Only, she won't go." He waited, watching Foster's face. Foster chewed a corner of his lip worriedly. "Well, what do you make of it?" His tone was helpless. Bud threw out his two hands expressively, and shook his head. He let down the hood, climbed in, slid into the driver's seat, and went through the operation of starting. Only, he didn't start.