After a time not to be counted in minutes, as the clock measures,——without any warning,——there came a swift change of his features; his face turned white, as the waters whiten when a sudden breath passes over their still surface; the muscles instantly relaxed, and Iris, released at once from her care for the sufferer and from his unconscious grasp, fell senseless, with a feeble cry,——the only utterance of her long agony.
The Aga Kaga snarled.
The first who came up to me was a Croat, who, spying my gold-laced hat near by, clapped it on his head, and then had the impudence to ask me how I liked it. Not pleased with my answer, which was short, he turned me over on my face and, cutting off my queue with his sabre, marched away, saying he would remember me by it.
One day some one told A-bra-ham that Mr. Craw-ford, a man whose home was miles off, had a book he ought to read. This was a great book in those days. It was Weems’ “Life of Wash-ing-ton.” The youth set
“We know he started this way, and the chances are ten to one Frank has been doing some of his usual daring work here. We watched the aeroplanes and seaplanes soaring over the Turkish forts and batteries while the fleet was bombarding in the lower part of the straits yesterday, and something seemed to tell me that the one who dropped bombs into a fort, and blew up the magazine, must have been my brother.”
years. I make no apology, therefore, for the fact that Bolton Byrne, whose evil shadow ought to fall across all my remaining pages, never again appears in them; and that the last I saw of him (for my purpose) was when, after our exaggeratedly cheerful and even noisy dinner that evening at Jack Alstrop’s, I observed him shaking hands with Hayley Delane, and declaring, with pinched lips and a tone of falsetto cordiality: “Bear malice? Well, rather not—why, what rot! All’s fair in—in polo, ain’t it? I should say so! Yes—off first thing tomorrow. S’pose of course you’re staying on with Jack over Sunday? I wish I hadn’t promised the Gildermeres—.” And therewith he vanishes, having served his purpose as a passing lantern-flash across the twilight of Hayley Delane’s character.
"Good-evening, aunty," replied Mrs. Hereford, having learned that much of Southern etiquette. "Won't you walk in and rest yourself?"
He pressed the unsealing tabs, slipped his hand into the vacant chest of the suit and pulled out the hand mike. "This is Herrell McCray," he said, "calling the Jodrell Bank."详情 ➢
Copyright © 2020