complete the name of this famous cricket ground

complete the name of this famous cricket ground CHAPTER 130. The Hat. When that awful word, the worst word that a woman can use to a man, left my lips, a flame shot up into his eyes that I thought would burn me up, but in a half second it was extinguished by the strangest thing in the world—for the situation—a perfect flood of mirth. He sat down in his chair and shook all over, with his head in his hands, until I saw tears creep through his fingers. I had calmed down now so suddenly that I was about to begin to cry in good earnest when he wiped his eyes and said with a low laugh in his throat—,"How'd you come to have it?",When the fire was burning strongly, he moved it as close to the door as possible so that the flames could lick the planking. His whole scheme depended on the door burning sufficiently to let him either crawl through or to weaken it to the point where his strength could break it down. Therefore, once the fire was in place he must not be stingy with his wood; the hotter the blaze, the more chance he had.,"Exactly. Isabella Dallas, and none other, killed your boy Maurice.",When he reached his room he found the light on and Jerry about to slip into his bunk.，Griffin chuckled. "You see, I was in the ante-room, cataloguing the prints—you know I got that job last week. Well, the Board was droning on in the big room in their usual uninteresting fashion and I was deep in admiration of a Rembrandt etching—that one with the hat and the open window behind him—when Green sails past me, head up and majesty writ large on her bulging brow. She always does put on lugs when she reports to the Committee, so I didn't sit up and take notice right away. But in a minute or two I came to life, I can tell you! She was rolling off the sentences about 'injustice to a high-minded student' and 'unnecessary humiliation' and 'reparation to one who was an ornament to any school,' and a lot of other junk like that. I tell you, I could have hugged the old girl! The Board just sat still, like school-boys caught stealing jam, and she went on, getting more flowery all the time."，The heart of a Princess, it seems pretty plain,，Mr. Moore is her landlord, and the owner of the lovely wood behind Mangle Farm where Geoffrey came to grief yesterday."So Mr. Moore says," returns she, smiling.

"No, no, I didn't mean that," returned Bruce hastily. "I was thinking of something else.","Because I have nothing to say," murmurs the girl, in a frozen tone,—"nothing." Then passionately, "I will not be selfish. I will not do this thing.",Assembled there were the family and those who were connected with the estate in any way—the people from the Works and the wharf, the servants of the house and from about the place. The great room was packed so full that it was barely possible for Johnny and Lars to get inside the door.,The man laughed. “Even the Grand Canyon can’t keep a good, healthy appetite down for long, can it? I guess supper is pretty nearly ready now. But wait a minute—here is someone I want you to know.”,"Not in the least," replied the Princess; "I admire in you everything you have mentioned.",And home was a good way off; first through the forest, then along the stone wall, and all across the Karine place, where everybody could see him. How disgusting! Where Eric was, or even which way he had gone in the woods, Johnny had no idea.,"Not half enough," says Mr. Darling, enthusiastically.,"I'm going to take her out with us day after tomorrow—she's not going back to the Academy—and I'm going to get work for her. There's where you can help. She's a good sewer, she says, though she'd rather live with someone and do housework.",“You carnt spell so smart anyways,” he ventured. Betty turned her piquant nose up at him and suddenly bounced up from the table.,While this search was being carried on, those left in the house were in no cheerful mood. They all repaired to the kitchen, as the windows there afforded a view of the path leading to the creek. Each lady in her own way tried to bring comfort and consolation to the worried mother. Mrs. Bliggins gave a long graphic account of the loss of her cousin, Mrs. Snoop’s husband, at sea. Mr. Augustus Snoop, it transpired, had sailed away one summer morning on the good ship “Wanderer,” with Australia as his goal. The story was somewhat elliptical, but the hearers could gather that before Mr. Snoop’s departure there had been a huge caldron of trouble brewing on the domestic hearth. Unfortunately, the ship in which Mr. Snoop sailed had after many weeks been reported missing, and Mrs. Snoop had donned sombre garments in honor of the departed. She had found some slight consolation in telling her friends of her late husband’s many excellent qualities and of his unrivalled devotion to her. She would wipe away the gushing tears with her black-bordered handkerchief as she recounted how her dear Augustus had been so careful and considerate of her and had even been known to turn the clothes-wringer for her. True, she had taken in washing for some years to keep the family larder filled, but her dear husband had felt so much concerned about it that during that whole time he had not been equal to doing any work himself. The sorrowing widow had felt certain that from his home of heavenly bliss the loving Augustus, whenever he could be spared from his other duties, was daily and hourly watching his adored wife now living frugally but peacefully on his life insurance money.,“By heck! Flash is all right.”,"I don't understand you.".