Unmarked6698
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
"Oh yes, sir." It was broad daylight when Anson, in response to an angry call from the bottom of the stairway, sat up in bed. Vaguely he realized that in some dire way this glad morning proclaimed a day of doom, but his drowsy senses were still leaping vast chasms of dreamland—striving to slip from the control of saner reasoning and drift away with a happy abandon of dire results to follow. What boy has not had the same experience, even although he knew that a razor-strop, wielded by a vigorous hand, would in all probability accomplish quickly what his drowsy will had failed to accomplish? Anson was just dropping off into the lulling arms of Morpheus when that extra sense, possessed by all boys in a measure and by certain boys in particular, warned him back to wakefulness and a realization of his danger. Snug in Maurice's corn-husk bed in the attic, the boys lay and listened for the door to open and close. Then Maurice chuckled..
453 people found this
review helpful
kez_ h (Kez_h)
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
"The name of the place I mean to stay at—my own actual property—is called Coolnagurtheen," goes on Geoffrey, heedless of her censure.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
"Well, as I say, I shall soon," returns Mona, brightening, "because Geoffrey has promised to teach me."
658 people found this
review helpful
Conrad
"Mr Lawrence has a beautiful voice," said[Pg 78] Lucy. "How touchingly he sang 'Tom Bowling'!" The Admiral was on deck, and so was Captain Acton, and Captain Weaver had also stepped out of the deck-house to take a look round. The stranger was now sufficiently near to be determinable by the glass even in moonshine; and so soon as she sprang into being under the magical flourish of the wand of the moon, it was known for a surety that she was not the Minorca. She was square-rigged aft, and made a big, broad cloud as she rolled along under topgallant, topmast, and lower stun-sails. The breeze that had blown throughout the day still blew, and the circumstance of the stranger having kept ahead of the Aurora for many hours was proof of her nimble keel. "Captain Acton wishes to see you at eight o'clock this evening. You'll be there?" She gazed into his radiant face with serious eyes. "But Frank," she whispered, "it may be cold and dismal next week, I—I always thought that I should like our wedding to be—-".
298 people found this
review helpful