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“No,” said Jerry. “Mr. Rutherford, my chief, wants him. Wall of auxiliary spillway this side of the river giving way—will flood all the buttress excavation. We’re shoring it, but Mr. Rutherford wants the Chief and in a hurry. I’m off but I’m afraid I’ll get him too late! If he calls up send him to Mr. Rutherford at once!” With this Jerry shot out of the office and down the hill, evidently planning to make his legs take him to the Chief. Madame listened to pompous declamation in silent sorrow and indignation. She made another effort to interest the Abate in favor of Julia, but he preserved his stern inflexibility, and repeating that he would deliberate upon the matter, and acquaint her with the result, he arose with great solemnity, and quitted the room. "Grandmother, what large teeth you have!".
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Conrad
“Look out for falls!” he shouted. Jerry turned and saw that they were on the very brink of a precipice over which the river was flowing. It was a nasty hole they were in. From the noise the water made when it dropped, Jerry was sure it was a long way to the bottom. Besides, he saw in a flash that along its edge gashes of rock stuck up like sentinels. If they were driven against any one of these it would mean instant shipwreck. The sound which appeared to be the last groan of a dying person, was repeated. Hippolitus made a strong effort, and sprang forward, when a light burst upon him from a shattered casement of the building, and at the same instant he heard the voices of men! 'Soon after my noviciation, I had the misfortune to lose my dear father. In the tranquillity of this monastery, however, in the soothing kindness of my companions, and in devotional exercises, my sorrows found relief, and the sting of grief was blunted. My repose was of short continuance. A circumstance occurred that renewed the misery, which, can now never quit me but in the grave, to which I look with no fearful apprehension, but as a refuge from calamity, trusting that the power who has seen good to afflict me, will pardon the imperfectness of my devotion, and the too frequent wandering of my thoughts to the object once so dear to me.' “Had you done something wrong, John?”.
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