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unearths some literary gems.
From The House of the Arrow, by A. E. W. Mason:
***"I step into a little narrow alley and I peep round the corner. I peep with my eyes," and Waberski pointed to them with two of his fingers as though there was something peculiarly convincing in the fact that he peeped with them and not with his elbows.***The clocks in Dijon clash out and take up the hour from one another and pass it on to the hills.***Of course, Jim reflected, there was a strain of the mountebank in Hanaud....A strain of the mountebank indeed! He had a great deal of the mountebank. More than half of him was probably mountebank. Possibly quite two-thirds!"Oh, damn the fellow! What in the world did he notice?" cried Jim. "What did he notice from the top of the Tower? What did he notice in this hall? Why must he be always noticing something?" and he jammed his hat on in a rage and stalked out of the house.***[Who Needs Context? dept.]"The young lady," said Jim, "happens to be a port-manteau!"***To the amazement of them all Moreau began to laugh. Up till now he had been alert, competent and without expression. Stolidity had been the mark of him. And now he laughed in great gusts, holding his sides and then wringing his hands....Once or twice he tried to speak, but laughter leapt upon the words and drowned them."What in the world is the matter with you, Nicolas?" Hanaud asked."But I beg your pardon," Moreau stammered, and again merriment seized and mastered him. At last two intelligible words were heard. "We, Girardot," he cried, settling an imaginary pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose, and went off into a fit.***
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