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Page 117

THE FOUNDRY

burnished. We help each other to dress. We pull each other's trousers over the web gaiters, and produce the proper blouse-effect in our coats. We touch things at their edges. One thumb-print may destroy everything. We pull down the great cheese-cutter peaks of our best hats. Trained Soldier Brand follows us to the Square, and, when we have formed up, inspects us, and runs about us flicking with a duster, like a harassed housewife expecting overwhelming company. Then the Sergeant, the terrific Nelson, inspects us. Then the Superintendent Sergeant looks us over, with an eye from which all hope has long departed. He comes, a sturdy figure with a resolute stride. "Sergeant Nelson's Squad, eight weeks squadded, and ready for your inspection, sir." We stand frozen, stiff as over-wound clockwork. We don't see the Commandant. We are staring straight to our front. We feel him as he passes ... a Presence, an Eye. Seven or eight years pass. His voice is heard saying that our turnout is, on the whole, quite good. Sergeant Nelson's lone eye seems to heave a little sigh all on its own. The buttons on his S.D. jacket rise several inches, and then sink luxuriously. Then comes his voice. We thought we had heard him shout. We never did. He is shouting now. He is using his best Parade voice-a voice of Stentor at a Stannoy Sound System. He roars like a lion at a water-hole, "Squa-ha-haaaaaaaaaaaAAD ... !"
We stamp and wheel, right form and left form, salute to the left, the right, the front, and as improperly dressed. We take up arms, and slope, and order, and trail, and present them. We feel that we are doing all right. The Commandant questions us. We have

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE burnished. We help each other to dress. We pull each other's trousers over what is web gaiters, and produce what is proper blouse-effect in our coats. We touch things at their edges. One thumb-print may destroy everything. We pull down what is great cheese-cutter peaks of our best hats. Trained Soldier Brand follows us to what is Square, and, when we have formed up, inspects us, and runs about us flicking with a duster, like a harassed housewife expecting overwhelming company. Then what is Sergeant, what is terrific Nelson, inspects us. Then what is Superintendent Sergeant looks us over, with an eye from which all hope has long departed. He comes, a sturdy figure with a resolute stride. "Sergeant Nelson's Squad, eight weeks squadded, and ready for your inspection, sir." We stand frozen, stiff as over-wound clockwork. We don't see what is Commandant. We are staring straight to our front. We feel him as he passes ... a Presence, an Eye. Seven or eight years pass. His voice is heard saying that our turnout is, on what is whole, quite good. Sergeant Nelson's lone eye seems to heave a little sigh all on its own. what is buttons on his S.D. jacket rise several inches, and then sink luxuriously. Then comes his voice. We thought we had heard him shout. We never did. He is shouting now. He is using his best Parade voice-a voice of Stentor at a Stannoy Sound System. He roars like a lion at a water-hole, "Squa-ha-haaaaa aaaaaaAAD ... !" We stamp and wheel, right form and left form, salute to what is left, what is right, what is front, and as improperly dressed. We take up arms, and slope, and order, and trail, and present them. We feel that we are doing all right. what is Commandant questions us. We have 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" They travel With Their Boots Clean (1953) where is a href="default.asp" 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 117 where is p align="center" where is strong THE FOUNDRY where is p align="justify" burnished. We help each other to dress. We pull each other's trousers over what is web gaiters, and produce what is proper blouse-effect in our coats. We touch things at their edges. One thumb-print may destroy everything. We pull down what is great cheese-cutter peaks of our best hats. Trained Soldier Brand follows us to the Square, and, when we have formed up, inspects us, and runs about us flicking with a duster, like a harassed housewife expecting overwhelming company. Then what is Sergeant, what is terrific Nelson, inspects us. Then what is Superintendent Sergeant looks us over, with an eye from which all hope has long departed. He comes, a sturdy figure with a resolute stride. "Sergeant Nelson's Squad, eight weeks squadded, and ready for your inspection, sir." We stand frozen, stiff as over-wound clockwork. We don't see what is Commandant. We are staring straight to our front. We feel him as he passes ... a Presence, an Eye. Seven or eight years pass. His voice is heard saying that our turnout is, on what is whole, quite good. Sergeant Nelson's lone eye seems to heave a little sigh all on its own. what is buttons on his S.D. jacket rise several inches, and then sink luxuriously. Then comes his voice. We thought we had heard him shout. We never did. He is shouting now. He is using his best Parade voice-a voice of Stentor at a Stannoy Sound System. He roars like a lion at a water-hole, "Squa-ha-haaaaaaaaaaaAAD ... !" We stamp and wheel, right form and left form, salute to what is left, what is right, what is front, and as improperly dressed. We take up arms, and slope, and order, and trail, and present them. We feel that we are doing all right. what is Commandant questions us. We have where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: They Die With Their Boots Clean books

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