Unmarked6698
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
One hot noontide he and Eric lay on the wharf in the baking sunshine. It was not Pilot Taraldsen’s wharf near the house, but the old wharf beyond the woods. In the tiny bedroom in town Johnny Blossom laid his brown head on the pillow. “Thank you, dear God, thank you, thank you,” he murmured, and said no more, for he was overpowered by sleep. The stout gentleman had a tight grip on Johnny’s little red ear..
453 people found this
review helpful
kez_ h (Kez_h)
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
"Oh, do let's stay till it's all done," she urged, but Bruce and Elinor were adamant.I tried logging in using my phone number and I
was supposed to get a verification code text,but didn't
get it. I clicked resend a couple time, tried the "call
me instead" option twice but didn't get a call
either. the trouble shooting had no info on if the call
me instead fails.There was
Patricia held out her hand across the cloth. "I can't kiss you, but here's the substitute. You're a duck, Bruce Haydon. Where is the studio?"
658 people found this
review helpful
Conrad
“But—but nobody’s ever gone through alive,” stammered the man. “I’ve always wanted to try it myself but never found the chance. How did you do it?” "You are right; they would indeed laugh to see a Cindertail at the ball!" Bob was about to reply when an interruption stopped the words that were on the end of his tongue. A crackling noise in the bushes had been the only warning Feather-in-the-Wind had given of his approach. But his companion was what surprised Bob. “Can’t get him—gone to Las Cruces. Yes, hello, Mixer? The Chief? Gone? Yes, yes! Where? North end spillway! Right! ’Bye.” She pulled out the plug and said to Jerry, “Started for spillway ten minutes ago. No phone there yet. Take fifteen minutes get messenger there—can you wait?”.
298 people found this
review helpful