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[188]Bob instinctively liked the man who was showing him what had been done to reclaim the desert. By the time they got back to the house they had become good friends and the man had asked the boy to come up and visit the ranch again.,
Ted was puzzled at the reference Bob had made to the Chief Engineer. “You called him Whiskers—is that your nickname for him?”,
It took longer to get back to camp than he had supposed, for he was afraid to leave the river which served as his guide. Therefore it was nearly noon when a bend of the river showed him the dam.,
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When at last the jolting cars stopped, they found a car waiting, into which the three piled. Once under way, Bob asked Mr. Whitney, “Doesn’t the railroad go into the camp? It seems to me it must be pretty heavy hauling all the big machinery from here across the desert.”,
“You bet I don’t train along with him. I’m so sick of cows that I never want to see a long horn again. I’d like to be an engineer. I sneaked up once or twice to the dam. It must be fun to help built it. But I reckon it’s not for me.” The boys were silent, each busy with his own thoughts. Then the newcomer exclaimed, “But here’s the place we want to do some fishing. Grab a line and bait up!”,
“Pills?” said Aunt Grenertsen. “I have never taken pills in all my long life.”,
The marquis arrived on the day after that on which Vincent had expired. He came attended by servants only, and alighted at the gates of the castle with an air of impatience, and a countenance expressive of strong emotion. Madame, with the young ladies, received him in the hall. He hastily saluted his daughters, and passed on to the oak parlour, desiring madame to follow him. She obeyed, and the marquis enquired with great agitation after Vincent. When told of his death, he paced the room with hurried steps, and was for some time silent. At length seating himself, and surveying madame with a scrutinizing eye, he asked some questions concerning the particulars of Vincent's death. She mentioned his earnest desire to see the marquis, and repeated his last words. The marquis remained silent, and madame proceeded to mention those circumstances relative to the southern division of the castle, which she thought it of so much importance to discover. He treated the affair very lightly, laughed at her conjectures, represented the appearances she described as the illusions of a weak and timid mind, and broke up the conversation, by going to visit the chamber of Vincent, in which he remained a considerable time.
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Developer Response,
Johnny Blossom took his leave in some disappointment. Miss Jorgensen wasn’t a bit nice—she was simply horrid. Oh, well, he didn’t mind. Anyway, she couldn’t say that no one had given her a Christmas present.
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vidwh-Wong,
It’s a Quan-Yuan
One day, her mother having baked some cakes, said to her, "Go and see how your grandmother is getting on, for I have been told she is ill; take her a cake and this little jar of butter." Whereupon Little Red Riding-Hood started off without delay towards the village in which her grandmother lived. On her way she had to pass through a wood, and there she met that sly old fellow, Mr Wolf, who felt that he should very much like to eat her up on the spot, but was afraid to do so, as there were woodcutters at hand in the forest. He asked her which way she was going, and the poor child, not knowing how dangerous it is to stop and listen to a wolf, answered, "I am going to see my grandmother, and am taking a cake and a little jar of butter, which my mother has sent her."
knb2r-Xu,
Bingbing-Li
The Queen knew nothing of all this. Meanwhile a little Princess had been born to her, as beautiful as the Frog had predicted, to whom they gave the name of Moufette. The Queen had great difficulty in persuading the fairy to allow her to bring up the child, for so ferocious was she, that she would have liked to eat it. Moufette, a wonder of beauty, was now six months old; the Queen, as she looked upon her with a tenderness mingled with pity, continually said: "Ah! if your father could see you, my poor little one, how delighted he would be! how dear you would be to him! But even, already, maybe, he has begun to forget me; he believes, no doubt, that we are lost to him in death; and perhaps another fills the place in his heart, that once was mine."
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Halin-Chen Response,
>From this period the castle of Mazzini, which had been the theatre of a dreadful catastrophe; and whose scenes would have revived in the minds of the chief personages connected with it, painful and shocking reflections—was abandoned.
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