Unmarked6698
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
Mrs. Wopp was much too energetically engaged to enter into fuller argument. She busied herself preparing the tubs for rinsing, singing in a high tremolo, “Shall we gather at the river?” “Take care ole boy, you’ll trip on yer lip in another minute.” Mrs. Wopp repeated the words, slowly rolling them on her tongue as though to extract every ounce possible of scriptural nutriment, “So they took up Joner and carst him forth inter the sea.”.
453 people found this
review helpful
kez_ h (Kez_h)
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
"It is really hardly worth talking about," she says, grandly. "I was foolish to lay so great a stress on such a trifling matter. It doesn't signify, not in the least. But—but," the blood mounting to her brow, "if ever you speak of it again,—if ever you even mention the word 'heather,'—I shall hate you!"I tried logging in using my phone number and I
was supposed to get a verification code text,but didn't
get it. I clicked resend a couple time, tried the "call
me instead" option twice but didn't get a call
either. the trouble shooting had no info on if the call
me instead fails.There was
"Let us kill our husband," said the other: "then we can go back to our relations and have a good time."
658 people found this
review helpful
Conrad
He lifted the board, trying its weight. Could he ever get it safely placed? Higher he lifted it, and began to let it drop; but he saw that if the other end missed the window sill, it would pull him down to the court below. Frantic, he stared about for help, for inspiration. He dared not wait till the passers came in hearing; the sound of his voice calling might too soon rouse men inside, make them shoot perhaps. As it was he expected every minute to see a swarthy face appear, a hand with a knife or pistol. It was not for himself he feared, but for May Nell, the little girl who for some strange reason was worth something to these desperadoes, and whose life would be on his soul if he did not save her. “Yes; but some one who could take care of himself. And you didn’t expect to open dressmaking parlors.” “Peter Stolway, may I arsk you to tell out loud what you was whisperin’?” “Moses,” she directed, “git an empty apple-box fer the burnt orfferin’s.”.
298 people found this
review helpful