"When God would destroy an ant, he gives him wings," Retief said. "Distress in misfortune is another misfortune."
“They must be,” Amos admitted readily enough, “when any minute you may find yourself made a target for a quick-firer that shoots bullets as fast as you can wink, and cuts men down like ripe grain. But the darkness is in our favor, Jack.”
“Papa wont let me go neer it” ses she wid a sob.
It was but a few nights be-fore, on A-pril 11, that the Pres-i-dent said words of this sort to the crowds which stormed the White House. In all the land, where true hearts beat for the Un-ion, there was joy.
An hour later, with food in his belly and something from the surgeon's hypospray in his bloodstream to clear his brain, he was in the captain's cabin, trying to spell out in words that made sense the incredible story of (he discovered) eight days since he had been abducted from the ship.
"I suggest that you all become guests in Yamamura."
Before the echoed notes had died, the darts had found their targets.
A fortnight went by, and at sunset one evening Trixie Coventry came out of the bungalow to stroll with lagging feet about the garden. She looked white and weary, yet relief was in her eyes for suspense was over, George was gaining strength. His illness had been sharp, a vicious form of fever contracted in the jungle and encouraged by the journey, as well as by all that had followed on the night of his return. For days and nights after his collapse in the veranda he had either raved and tossed, or lain exhausted and inert scarcely conscious of existence. Fortunately a good nurse had been available, and, as is usual in India, people had been immeasurably kind and helpful. Yet the strain had been severe for Trixie, the watching, the anxiety, the long hot nights, the dread until the doctor could, with truth, assure her that her husband would not die; and underneath it all lay
Wid that she leeds me acrost the room to wan of the sofies, and pushes out wid her foot wan of thim camp stules for the girls to sit upon.
On Twelfth Night the dead walk, and on every tile of the house a soul is sitting, waiting for your prayers to take it out of purgatory.详情 ➢
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