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“Gee whiz, but we’ll have to get busy in a hurry,” snapped Bob. “Come on, we’ll wake Mr. Taylor.” But he made one more try. Possibly a picture or newspaper had been tacked on the wall and had escaped his fingers when he had first gone round the room. “Ah, me! Ah, me!” said she. “It’s all a miracle; that I should be here in this fine room and see all this grandeur, see out of the window where the sun shines, and see also something that shines still brighter in Johnny Blossom’s eyes.”.
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Conrad
It was enough for Julia to know that Hippolitus lived; her fears of detection, and her scruples concerning Ferdinand, instantly vanished; she thought only of escape—and the means which had lately appeared so formidable—so difficult in contrivance, and so dangerous in execution, now seemed easy, certain, and almost accomplished. High mid Alverna's awful steeps, CHAPTER I FATHER AND SON "Some years since" said Thackeray in a public speech, "when I was younger, and used to frequent jolly assemblies, I wrote a Bacchanalian song to be chanted after dinner;" and a contemporary record has preserved a note of "the radiant gratification of his face whilst Horace Mayhew sang The Mahogany Tree, perhaps the finest and most soul-stirring of Thackeray's social songs.".
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