Unmarked6698
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
"Really! I hope you will succeed. But a case like this requires a trained intelligence such as you will find in a detective. Of course you may command my services, major, but I am afraid you will not succeed." "Does she refuse to give evidence against Etwald?" "I refuse to tell you--at present.".
453 people found this
review helpful
kez_ h (Kez_h)
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
"I am sure he is a man of resolution," said Lucy. "I never look at him without seeming to see why it is he should be so gallant and desperate a fighter at sea. He has a cast of face that is very uncommon, full of power of thought, and the shape of his head is like that Greek bust in the library. How is it that a man with his spirit is unable to deny himself what he knows must speedily bring him to ruin?"I tried logging in using my phone number and I
was supposed to get a verification code text,but didn't
get it. I clicked resend a couple time, tried the "call
me instead" option twice but didn't get a call
either. the trouble shooting had no info on if the call
me instead fails.There was
"I guess we don't want'a keep him, do we?" he asked of his companions.
658 people found this
review helpful
Conrad
"Mrs. Johnson," I said after a minute's silence, while I had decided whether or not I had better tell her all about it. If a woman's in love with her husband you can't trust her to keep a secret, but I decided to try Mrs. Johnson. "I really am not engaged exactly to Alfred Bennett, though I suppose he thinks so by now if he has got the answer to that telegram. But—but something has made me—made me think about Judge Wade—that is he—what do you think of him, Mrs. Johnson?" I concluded in the most pitifully perplexed tone of voice. The old man's eyes brightened in anticipation of a feast, and he shuffled off round the corner as quickly as his age would allow him. Dido looked after him for a moment, considering the message he had brought from Dr. Etwald, and then began to think of the devil-stick. "It doesn't seem to come right," said Patricia, rumpling her hair with the back of one soiled hand and staring ruefully at the lumpy, meaningless group of two stiff figures in modeling-wax that stood stolidly on a thick little board on top of the piano stool. "Yes; like a street arab. He was one, once, you know, major, and has not forgotten his early habits. Well, he was driven with the carriage to Deanminster.".
298 people found this
review helpful