How to pronounce chance

How to pronounce chance Many of the insurgents looked at me curiously while they skulked behind Mr Lawrence arched his eyebrows. Certainly he did not recognise the sweet and sympathetic Lucy Acton in these questions.,"Some fellows go away for months," says Geoffrey, still honestly bent on cheering her, but unfortunately going the wrong way to work.,Shipley threw back his head and chuckled a wheezing laugh. "Loramity! Benjamin," he choked, "can't you get his reason fer that? He wants to make sure that all the prayer-meetin' folks will be gone home. It wouldn't do fer 'em to see us helpin' keep the deacon's pigs from cholery. Ain't that like the smooth old weasel, though?","Well, that's my place," answered Stanhope. "How am I navigating, Billy?","On three charges. First, that he thieved the devil-stick; second, that he killed Maurice; and third, that he stole the lad's body."，"I wish I was one!" says Mr. Darling, with considerable effusion. "I envy the people who can claim nationality with you. I'd be a Paddy myself to-morrow if I could, for that one reason."，Thus entreated, Isabella stepped out into the night, and in a moment or so she was swallowed up in the darkness with her companion. Left alone, the major closed the window, bolted and barred the shutters, and then hastened back to the death chamber, where he rang the bell. In a few minutes the footman, half-dressed and half-asleep, made his appearance; then came the policeman hastily from the kitchen; finally, as the bell still continued ringing, all the other servants, male and female, poured into the room. A single glance showed them what had occurred--the insensible Jaggard, the empty bed, the open window. A babel of voices ensued.，"He's just a week younger, Mrs. Johnson, and I wouldn't tie him for worlds, even if I married him," I said meekly. Somehow I like Mrs. Johnson enough to be meek with her, and it always brings her to a higher point of excitement.Bob laughed, “We get enough to do week days on the dam to get up a pretty good appetite. But I won’t deny that I’ll be ready when the dinner bell rings. We’ve got a Mexican cook where we grub and he’s a lot better on quantity than quality.”

"Yes, Mr. Haydon, sir," he said clearly. "We do not complain. Our trade keeps up, sir. We are the same as when you left, sir. We do not complain.","I shall remember," says Mona, not knowing what the paper contains. "And who am I, that I should dwell upon the sins of another? Are you tired, Paul? How fearfully pale you are looking!","De debble-stick! Whar is it?","Oh, yes, thank you," says Mona, who is both surprised and carried away by the other's unexpected eloquence.,Isabella looked calmly at them both.,"Open that door, Mrs. Geoffrey," says the doctor pointing to his right hand. "I saw you coming, and have prepared him for the interview. I shall be just here, or in the next room, if you should want me. But I can do little for him more than I have done.","Nerves!" she cried indignantly, sitting bolt upright. "Don't you 'er anybody else dare accuse me of havin' nerves, Tom Wilson. If I wasn't the most sensible-minded person alive I'd be throwin' fits er goin' off into gallopin' hysterics every hour, with the things that Willium does to scare the life out of a body.",Just now it is blowing softly, delicately, as though its fury of the night before had been an hallucination of the brain. It is "a sweet and passionate wooer," says Longfellow, and lays siege to "the blushing leaf." There are no leaves for it to kiss to-day: so it bestows its caresses upon Mona as she wanders forth, close guarded by her two stanch hounds that follow at her heels.,Is neglected, or reviled,,"Oh Hully Gee!" yelled Jim Scroggie, "Wasn't that corkin'—Oh Mommer! An' what did you an' Maurice do with the weasels?",In the camp was a beautiful girl named Mā-mĭn´—the Wing—whom all the young men wished to marry, but perhaps Red Robe loved her more than all the rest. Her father was a rich old medicine man who never invited any except chiefs and great warriors to feast with him, and Red Robe seldom entered his lodge. He used to dress as well as he could, to braid his hair carefully, to paint his face nicely, and to stand for a long time near the lodge looking entreatingly at her as she came and went about her work, or fleshed a robe under the shelter of some travois over which a hide was spread. Then whenever they met, he thought the look she gave him in passing was friendly—perhaps more than that.,“Mother, Mother! The coffee is boiling over. Hurry!”.