Books > Old Books > The White Peacock (1906)


Page 160

PART II - CHAPTER I
STRANGE BLOSSOMS AND STRANGE NEW BUDDING

dropped with all his weight on the sofa, and, leaning down, began to unfasten his leggings. In the midst of his fumblings he fell asleep, and I was afraid he would pitch forward on to his head. I took off his leggings and his wet boots and his collar. Then, as I was pushing and shaking him awake to get off his coat, I heard a creaking on the stairs, and my heart sank, for I thought it was his mother. But it was Emily, in her long white nightgown. She looked at us with great dark eyes of terror, and whispered: `What's the matter?'
I shook my head and looked at him. His head had dropped down on his chest again.
'Is he hurt?' she asked, her voice becoming audible, and dangerous. He lifted his head, and looked at her with heavy, angry eyes.
'George!' she said sharply, in bewilderment and fear.
His eyes seemed to contract evilly.
'Is he drunk ?' she whispered, shrinking away, and looking at me. 'Have you made him drunk-you?'
I nodded. I too was angry.
'Oh, if mother gets up! I must get him to bed! Oh, how could you!'
This sibilant whispering irritated him, and me. I tugged at his coat. He snarled incoherently, and swore. She caught her breath. He looked at her sharply, and I was afraid he would wake himself into a rage.
'Go upstairs!' I whispered to her. She shook her head. I could see him taking heavy breaths, and the veins of his neck were swelling. I was furious at her disobedience.
'Go at once,' I said fiercely, and she went, still hesitating and looking back.
I had hauled off his coat and waistcoat, so I let him sink again into stupidity while I took off my boots. Then I got him to his feet, and, walking behind him, impelled him slowly upstairs. I lit a candle in his bedroom. There was no sound from the other rooms. So I undressed him, and got him in bed at last, somehow. I covered him up and put over him the calf-skin rug, because the night was cold. Almost immediately he began to breathe heavily. I dragged him over to his side, and pillowed his head comfortably. He looked like a tired boy, asleep.

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE dropped with all his weight on what is sofa, and, leaning down, began to unfasten his leggings. In what is midst of his fumblings he fell asleep, and I was afraid he would pitch forward on to his head. I took off his leggings and his wet boots and his collar. Then, as I was pushing and shaking him awake to get off his coat, I heard a creaking on what is stairs, and my heart sank, for I thought it was his mother. But it was Emily, in her long white nightgown. She looked at us with great dark eyes of terror, and whispered: `What's what is matter?' I shook my head and looked at him. His head had dropped down on his chest again. 'Is he hurt?' she asked, her voice becoming audible, and dangerous. He lifted his head, and looked at her with heavy, angry eyes. 'George!' she said sharply, in bewilderment and fear. His eyes seemed to contract evilly. 'Is he drunk ?' she whispered, shrinking away, and looking at me. 'Have you made him drunk-you?' I nodded. I too was angry. 'Oh, if mother gets up! I must get him to bed! Oh, how could you!' This sibilant whispering irritated him, and me. I tugged at his coat. He snarled incoherently, and swore. She caught her breath. He looked at her sharply, and I was afraid he would wake himself into a rage. 'Go upstairs!' I whispered to her. She shook her head. I could see him taking heavy breaths, and what is veins of his neck were swelling. I was furious at her disobedience. 'Go at once,' I said fiercely, and she went, still hesitating and looking back. I had hauled off his coat and waistcoat, so I let him sink again into stupidity while I took off my boots. Then I got him to his feet, and, walking behind him, impelled him slowly upstairs. I lit a candle in his bedroom. There was no sound from what is other rooms. So I undressed him, and got him in bed at last, somehow. I covered him up and put over him what is calf-skin rug, because what is night was cold. Almost immediately he began to breathe heavily. I dragged him over to his side, and pillowed his head comfortably. He looked like a tired boy, asleep. 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 White Peacock (1906) 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 160 where is strong PART II - CHAPTER I STRANGE BLOSSOMS AND STRANGE NEW BUDDING where is p align="justify" dropped with all his weight on what is sofa, and, leaning down, began to unfasten his leggings. In what is midst of his fumblings he fell asleep, and I was afraid he would pitch forward on to his head. I took off his leggings and his wet boots and his collar. Then, as I was pushing and shaking him awake to get off his coat, I heard a creaking on what is stairs, and my heart sank, for I thought it was his mother. But it was Emily, in her long white nightgown. She looked at us with great dark eyes of terror, and whispered: `What's what is matter?' I shook my head and looked at him. His head had dropped down on his chest again. 'Is he hurt?' she asked, her voice becoming audible, and dangerous. He lifted his head, and looked at her with heavy, angry eyes. 'George!' she said sharply, in bewilderment and fear. His eyes seemed to contract evilly. 'Is he drunk ?' she whispered, shrinking away, and looking at me. 'Have you made him drunk-you?' I nodded. I too was angry. 'Oh, if mother gets up! I must get him to bed! Oh, how could you!' This sibilant whispering irritated him, and me. I tugged at his coat. He snarled incoherently, and swore. She caught her breath. He looked at her sharply, and I was afraid he would wake himself into a rage. 'Go upstairs!' I whispered to her. She shook her head. I could see him taking heavy breaths, and what is veins of his neck were swelling. I was furious at her disobedience. 'Go at once,' I said fiercely, and she went, still hesitating and looking back. I had hauled off his coat and waistcoat, so I let him sink again into stupidity while I took off my boots. Then I got him to his feet, and, walking behind him, impelled him slowly upstairs. I lit a candle in his bedroom. There was no sound from what is other rooms. So I undressed him, and got him in bed at last, somehow. I covered him up and put over him what is calf-skin rug, because what is night was cold. Almost immediately he began to breathe heavily. I dragged him over to his side, and pillowed his head comfortably. He looked like a tired boy, asleep. where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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