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Updated: June 8, 2025
"He demanded certain information about the post-mortem, you know, which, he said, ought to have shown that there was nothing poisonous in those pills." "Pooh!" exclaimed Bryce contemptuously. "Mere bluff! Of such a pill as that I've described there'd be no trace but the sugar coating and the poison. I tell you, I haven't the least doubt that that was how the poison was administered. It was easy.
And so as he, Pierre, before going off with Francois, approached Bertheroy to wish him good day, he pointedly remarked: "Guillaume will be very sorry that he was unable to hear you unfold those admirable ideas." The old /savant/ smiled. "Pooh!" said he; "just give him a summary of what I said. He will understand. He knows more about the matter than I do."
"I desire his majesty to know how whole-heartedly I belong to him." "'Twere best destroyed, I think. You can write another when the time comes to dispatch it." But Ostermore was never one to take sensible advice. "Pooh! 'Twill be safe in here. 'Tis a secret known to none." He dropped it, together with King James' letter, back into the recess, snapped down the trap, and replaced the drawer.
"The fever is gone, Mademoiselle, and he may wake at any moment; indeed, it is strange that he should sleep so long." "He will be the better for it when he does awaken. I will remain here while you rest, Michelot. My poor fellow, you are almost as worn with your vigils as he is with the fever." "Pooh! I am strong enough, Mademoiselle," he answered.
"Didn't you see him?" demanded Ben, turning to the little girls. "We saw Indians and tumbling men, and the Bounding Brothers of Borneo, and a clown and monkeys, and a little mite of a pony with blue eyes. Was he any of them?" answered Betty, innocently. "Pooh! he didn't belong to that lot. He always rode two, four, six, eight horses to oncet, and I used to ride with him till I got too big.
'The true Shechinah is man. You know no higher God? Pooh! the idea is old enough; it began with Eve. It works slowly, Holmes. In six thousand years, taking humanity as one, this self-existent soul should have clothed itself with a freer, royaller garment than poor Lois's body, or mine," he added, bitterly. "It works slowly," said the other, quietly. "Faster soon, in America.
"Where's it at?" "FIRE! Pooh-ha! "It's Linc Hoover. Hay, Linc! Where's the fire?" "FIRE! Pooh-ha! FIRE! ha, ha! "Hay, Linc! Where's it at? Tell me and I'll run. Hay! Where's it at?" "Which Swope? Henry or the old man?" "FIRE! Pooh! J. K. Swope. Whoo-ha, whooh-ha! Out out on West End Avenue. Poof!"
Edison's statement, yet I ventured to remind him that several distinguished scientists had declared that the airship America could not fail to destroy the German fleet. "Pooh!" he answered. "I said the America expedition would fail. The radio-control of torpedoes is uncertain at the best because of difficulties in following the guide lights.
I paused, supposing it to be the tomb of some stark warrior of the olden time, but Scott drew me on. "Pooh!" cried he, "it's nothing but one of the monuments of my nonsense, of which you'll find enough hereabouts." I learnt afterward that it was the grave of a favorite greyhound.
"There is no other way," said Sally, coolly. "If a rat comes in your way you must shoot him. I knew it had got to come. I have heard my uncle talk enough about that." "But what will be the end of it?" said another. "Pooh! It will end like smoke. The Yankees do not like fighting they would rather be excused, if you please. Their forte is quite in another line out of the way of powder."
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