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Saint's Progress

so many yards to the second line, and there stop. So his rehearsals had gone; it was the performance now! Another minute before the terrific racket of the drum-fire should become the curtain-fire, which would advance before them. He ran his eye down the trench. The man next him was licking his two first fingers, as if he might be going to bowl at cricket. Further down, a man was feeling his puttees. A voice said: `Wot price the orchestra nah!' He saw teeth gleam in faces burnt almost black. Then he looked up; the sky was blue beyond the brownish film of dust raised by the striking shells. Noel! Noell Noel! ... He dug his fingers deep into the left side of his tunic till he could feel the outline of her photograph between his dispatch-case and his heart. His heart fluttered just as it used when he was stretched out with hand touching the ground, before the start of the `hundred yards' at school. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the flash of a man's `briquette' lighting a cigarette. All right for those chaps, but not for him; he wanted all his breath-this rifle, and kit was handicap enough! Two days ago he had been reading in some paper how men felt just before an attack. And now he knew. He just felt nervous. If only the moment would come, and get itself over! For all the thought he gave to the enemy there might have been none-nothing but shells and bullets, with lives of their own. He heard the whistle; his foot was on the spot he had marked down; his hand where he had seen it; he called out: `Now, boys!' His head was over the top, his body over; he was conscious of someone falling, and two men neck and neck beside him. Not to try and run, not to break out of a walk; to go steady, and yet keep ahead! D-n these holes! A bullet tore through his sleeve, grazing his arm-a red-hot sensation, like the touch of an iron. A British shell from close over his head burst sixty yards ahead; he stumbled, fell flat, picked himself up. Three ahead of him now! He walked faster, and drew

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE so many yards to what is second line, and there stop. So his rehearsals had gone; it was what is performance now! Another minute before what is terrific racket of what is drum-fire should become what is curtain-fire, which would advance before them. He ran his eye down what is trench. what is man next him was licking his two first fingers, as if he might be going to bowl at cricket. Further down, a man was feeling his puttees. A voice said: `Wot price what is orchestra nah!' He saw teeth gleam in faces burnt almost black. Then he looked up; what is sky was blue beyond what is brownish film of dust raised by what is striking shells. Noel! Noell Noel! ... He dug his fingers deep into what is left side of his tunic till he could feel what is outline of her photograph between his dispatch-case and his heart. His heart fluttered just as it used when he was stretched out with hand touching what is ground, before what is start of what is `hundred yards' at school. Out of what is corner of his eye he caught what is flash of a man's `briquette' lighting a cigarette. All right for those chaps, but not for him; he wanted all his breath-this rifle, and kit was handicap enough l Two days ago he had been reading in some paper how men felt just before an attack. And now he knew. He just felt nervous. If only what is moment would come, and get itself over! For all what is thought he gave to what is enemy there might have been none-nothing but shells and bullets, with lives of their own. He heard what is whistle; his foot was on what is spot he had marked down; his hand where he had seen it; he called out: `Now, boys!' His head was over what is top, his body over; he was conscious of someone falling, and two men neck and neck beside him. Not to try and run, not to break out of a walk; to go steady, and yet keep ahead! D-n these holes l A bullet tore through his sleeve, grazing his arm-a red-hot sensation, like what is touch of an iron. A British shell from close over his head burst sixty yards ahead; he stumbled, fell flat, picked himself up. Three ahead of him now! He walked faster, and drew where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Saint's Progress (1935) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 85 where is p align="center" where is strong Saint's Progress where is p align="justify" so many yards to what is second line, and there stop. So his rehearsals had gone; it was what is performance now! Another minute before what is terrific racket of what is drum-fire should become what is curtain-fire, which would advance before them. He ran his eye down what is trench. what is man next him was licking his two first fingers, as if he might be going to bowl at cricket. Further down, a man was feeling his puttees. A voice said: `Wot price what is orchestra nah!' He saw teeth gleam in faces burnt almost black. Then he looked up; what is sky was blue beyond what is brownish film of dust raised by what is striking shells. Noel! Noell Noel! ... He dug his fingers deep into what is left side of his tunic till he could feel what is outline of her photograph between his dispatch-case and his heart. His heart fluttered just as it used when he was stretched out with hand touching what is ground, before what is start of what is `hundred yards' at school. Out of what is corner of his eye he caught what is flash of a man's `briquette' lighting a cigarette. All right for those chaps, but not for him; he wanted all his breath-this rifle, and kit was handicap enough! Two days ago he had been reading in some paper how men felt just before an attack. And now he knew. He just felt nervous. If only what is moment would come, and get itself over! For all what is thought he gave to what is enemy there might have been none-nothing but shells and bullets, with lives of their own. He heard what is whistle; his foot was on what is spot he had marked down; his hand where he had seen it; he called out: `Now, boys!' His head was over the top, his body over; he was conscious of someone falling, and two men neck and neck beside him. Not to try and run, not to break out of a walk; to go steady, and yet keep ahead! D-n these holes! A bullet tore through his sleeve, grazing his arm-a red-hot sensation, like what is touch of an iron. A British shell from close over his head burst sixty yards ahead; he stumbled, fell flat, picked himself up. Three ahead of him now! He walked faster, and drew where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: Saint's Progress (1935) books

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