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“So you want me to tell you something about the dam?” said Mr. Whitney, smiling at his rodman. The two were sitting on the side of a hill overlooking the construction work several days after Bob had been promoted from the office to the proud position of being the Chief’s aide. He had been on a message to the cofferdam gang and had returned to find the boss seemingly loafing. When he saw there might be a few free moments before he was set to work again he ventured some questions regarding the thing that was of most interest to him. How kind Nils was! The blouse came almost to Johnny’s knees, but now that he had something on there was no reason for not going to the wharf. Still, it was horrid to go among all those strangers, rigged out in this fashion. “Fine work!” was Bob’s comment. “Gives us time to turn around.” Then he suddenly remembered that the Indian had started the talk by advising against bringing Mr. Taylor into the emergency. “But why not get Boss Taylor?”.
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Conrad
Soothed by the presence of madame, the assiduity of the nuns, and by the stillness and sanctity of the place, her mind gradually recovered a degree of complacency to which it had long been a stranger. But notwithstanding all her efforts, the idea of Hippolitus would at intervals return upon her memory with a force that at once subdued her fortitude, and sunk her in a temporary despair. “You like Big Boss Whitney?” A strong feeling of compassion for the Beast came over Beauty when she was left alone. "Alas!" she said, "it is a pity he is so ugly, for he is so good!" “Oh, Mother! Mother!” screamed Johnny in terror..
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