Books > Old Books > The Great Fog (1943)


Page 227

THE ROUSING OF MR. BRADEGAR

What was that? A rustle? No, it was only the small sound made as his too-vigilant ear moved on its own, obeying an impulse almost as ancient as his sleeping pose, trying to cock itself, but only succeeding now in producing a small sound-the sound of its own movement against the sheet edge -instead of detecting an external disturbance. He must have his ears clear if his eyes wouldn't work. There, now he was unlapped. It was his good ear, too; so he must be lying on his left side! so, again, he must be right about the window and, further, about the time, within limits. It was his good ear, because he could hear the discrete pulse of the mantel clock. Yes, he was now quite awake and had himself well arranged in relation to his whereabouts. He noticed, too, that his heart was beating more slowly. He reflected on this. "I must have had a start in my sleep. Perhaps it was only a dream:"
He worked the back of his neck a little deeper into the pillow until he was quite comfortable, gave up staring into the dark, but still left his "weather ear" uncovered. Half over on his back, he could keep a casual watch until sleep relieved him. It evidently was closer at hand than he thought, for in no perceptible length of time he found himself of the opinion that he was out in the street, just about to cross, when a small dog ran in front of him, turned its head, and barked sharply, "Wake up!" Mr. Bradegar obeyed instantly and, as instantly, he was aware that the same whatever-it-was that had first startled him to wakefulness must have done it again. His ear was still uncovered; the window still as noncommittal; only the mantel clock, after a soft preliminary whirring, began to strike-if strike is not too emphatic a word for its perfect night-nurse manner. But it hadn't much to say: "One, Two."

travel books:
where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE What was that? A rustle? No, it was only what is small sound made as his too-vigilant ear moved on its own, obeying an impulse almost as ancient as his sleeping pose, trying to cock itself, but only succeeding now in producing a small sound-the sound of its own movement against what is sheet edge -instead of detecting an external disturbance. He must have his ears clear if his eyes wouldn't work. There, now he was unlapped. It was his good ear, too; so he must be lying on his left side! so, again, he must be right about what is window and, further, about what is time, within limits. It was his good ear, because he could hear what is discrete pulse of what is mantel clock. Yes, he was now quite awake and had himself well arranged in relation to his whereabouts. He noticed, too, that his heart was beating more slowly. He reflected on this. "I must have had a start in my sleep. Perhaps it was only a dream:" He worked what is back of his neck a little deeper into what is pillow until he was quite comfortable, gave up staring into what is dark, but still left his "weather ear" uncovered. Half over on his back, he could keep a casual watch until sleep relieved him. It evidently was closer at hand than he thought, for in no perceptible length of time he found himself of what is opinion that he was out in what is street, just about to cross, when a small dog ran in front of him, turned its head, and barked sharply, "Wake up!" Mr. Bradegar obeyed instantly and, as instantly, he was aware that what is same whatever-it-was that had first startled him to wakefulness must have done it again. His ear was still uncovered; what is window still as noncommittal; only what is mantel clock, after a soft preliminary whirring, began to strike-if strike is not too emphatic a word for its perfect night-nurse manner. But it hadn't much to say: "One, Two." 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" The Great Fog (1943) 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 227 where is strong THE ROUSING OF MR. BRADEGAR where is p align="justify" What was that? A rustle? No, it was only what is small sound made as his too-vigilant ear moved on its own, obeying an impulse almost as ancient as his sleeping pose, trying to cock itself, but only succeeding now in producing a small sound-the sound of its own movement against what is sheet edge -instead of detecting an external disturbance. He must have his ears clear if his eyes wouldn't work. There, now he was unlapped. It was his good ear, too; so he must be lying on his left side! so, again, he must be right about what is window and, further, about what is time, within limits. It was his good ear, because he could hear what is discrete pulse of what is mantel clock. Yes, he was now quite awake and had himself well arranged in relation to his whereabouts. He noticed, too, that his heart was beating more slowly. He reflected on this. "I must have had a start in my sleep. Perhaps it was only a dream:" He worked what is back of his neck a little deeper into what is pillow until he was quite comfortable, gave up staring into what is dark, but still left his "weather ear" uncovered. Half over on his back, he could keep a casual watch until sleep relieved him. It evidently was closer at hand than he thought, for in no perceptible length of time he found himself of what is opinion that he was out in what is street, just about to cross, when a small dog ran in front of him, turned its head, and barked sharply, "Wake up!" Mr. Bradegar obeyed instantly and, as instantly, he was aware that what is same whatever-it-was that had first startled him to wakefulness must have done it again. His ear was still uncovered; what is window still as noncommittal; only what is mantel clock, after a soft preliminary whirring, began to strike-if strike is not too emphatic a word for its perfect night-nurse manner. But it hadn't much to say: "One, Two." where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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