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Saint's Progress

bottles, large as Chica: bits of bottles, carrying off men's heads? Bsum, garra-a-a, and a house comes down, and little bits of people ever so small, ever so small, tiny bits in the air and all over the ground. Great souls out there, madame. But I will tell you a secret,' and again he gave his heavy giggle, `all a little, little mad; nothing to speak of just a little bit mad; like a watch, you know, that you can wind for ever. That is the discovery of this war, mademoiselle,' he said, addressing Noel for the first time, `you cannot gain a great soul till you are a little mad.' And lowering his piggy grey eyes at once, he resumed his former attitude. `It is that madness I shall paint some day,' he announced to the carpet; `lurking in one tiny corner of each soul of all those millions, as it creeps, as it peeps, ever so sudden, ever so little, when we all think it has been put to bed, here-there, now-then, when you least think; in and out like a mouse with bright eyes. Millions of men with white souls, all a little mad. A great subject, I think,' he added heavily. Involuntarily Noel put her hand to her heart, which was beating fast. She felt quite sick.
`How long have you been at the Front, monsieur?'
`Two years, mademoiselle. Time to go home and paint, is it not? But art ...!' he shrugged his heavy round shoulders, his. whole bear-like body. `A little mad,' he muttered once more. `I will tell you a story. Once in winter after I had rested a fortnight, I go back to the trenches at night, and I want some earth to fill up a hole in the ground where I was sleeping; when one has slept in a bed one becomes particular. Well, I scratch it from my parapet, and I come to something funny. I strike my briquette, and there is a Boche's face all frozen and earthy and dead and greenywhite in the flame from my briquette.'
`Oh, no!'
`Oh! but yes, mademoiselle; true as I sit here. Very useful in the parapet--dead Boche. Once a man like me. But in the

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE bottles, large as Chica: bits of bottles, carrying off men's heads? Bsum, garra-a-a, and a house comes down, and little bits of people ever so small, ever so small, tiny bits in what is air and all over what is ground. Great souls out there, madame. But I will tell you a secret,' and again he gave his heavy giggle, `all a little, little mad; nothing to speak of-just a little bit mad; like a watch, you know, that you can wind for ever. That is what is discovery of this war, mademoiselle,' he said, addressing Noel for what is first time, `you cannot gain a great soul till you are a little mad.' And lowering his piggy grey eyes at once, he resumed his former attitude. `It is that madness I shall paint some day,' he announced to what is carpet; `lurking in one tiny corner of each soul of all those millions, as it creeps, as it peeps, ever so sudden, ever so little, when we all think it has been put to bed, here-there, now-then, when you least think; in and out like a mouse with bright eyes. Millions of men with white souls, all a little mad. A great subject, I think,' he added heavily. Involuntarily Noel put her hand to her heart, which was beating fast. She felt quite sick. `How long have you been at what is Front, monsieur?' `Two years, mademoiselle. Time to go home and paint, is it not? But art ...!' he shrugged his heavy round shoulders, his. whole bear-like body. `A little mad,' he muttered once more. `I will tell you a story. Once in winter after I had rested a fortnight, I go back to what is trenches at night, and I want some earth to fill up a hole in what is ground where I was sleeping; when one has slept in a bed one becomes particular. Well, I scratch it from my parapet, and I come to something funny. I strike my briquette, and there is a Boche's face all frozen and earthy and dead and greenywhite in what is flame from my briquette.' `Oh, no!' `Oh! but yes, mademoiselle; true as I sit here. Very useful in what is parapet--dead Boche. Once a man like me. But in what is 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 170 where is p align="center" where is strong Saint's Progress where is p align="justify" bottles, large as Chica: bits of bottles, carrying off men's heads? Bsum, garra-a-a, and a house comes down, and little bits of people ever so small, ever so small, tiny bits in what is air and all over what is ground. Great souls out there, madame. But I will tell you a secret,' and again he gave his heavy giggle, `all a little, little mad; nothing to speak of just a little bit mad; like a watch, you know, that you can wind for ever. That is the discovery of this war, mademoiselle,' he said, addressing Noel for what is first time, `you cannot gain a great soul till you are a little mad.' And lowering his piggy grey eyes at once, he resumed his former attitude. `It is that madness I shall paint some day,' he announced to what is carpet; `lurking in one tiny corner of each soul of all those millions, as it creeps, as it peeps, ever so sudden, ever so little, when we all think it has been put to bed, here-there, now-then, when you least think; in and out like a mouse with bright eyes. Millions of men with white souls, all a little mad. A great subject, I think,' he added heavily. Involuntarily Noel put her hand to her heart, which was beating fast. She felt quite sick. `How long have you been at what is Front, monsieur?' `Two years, mademoiselle. Time to go home and paint, is it not? But art ...!' he shrugged his heavy round shoulders, his. whole bear-like body. `A little mad,' he muttered once more. `I will tell you a story. Once in winter after I had rested a fortnight, I go back to what is trenches at night, and I want some earth to fill up a hole in what is ground where I was sleeping; when one has slept in a bed one becomes particular. Well, I scratch it from my parapet, and I come to something funny. I strike my briquette, and there is a Boche's face all frozen and earthy and dead and greenywhite in what is flame from my briquette.' `Oh, no!' `Oh! but yes, mademoiselle; true as I sit here. Very useful in what is parapet--dead Boche. Once a man like me. But in what is where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: Saint's Progress (1935) books

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