时间：2020-02-27 12:50:25 作者：第三调解室 浏览量：87247
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At eleven a reply wire came from Poirot:
207“Never again,” said he, apropos of the episode I have just related, “shall I ‘take a call.’ I cannot even now think of those awful few moments on the stage without a shudder. It is distressing enough for an author to fail—distressing: not only because of his own disappointment, but chiefly because of the disappointment he brings to the actors who have done their best for his play—without having his failure hurled in his face, so to speak. But though I shall never again take a call, I shall continue writing plays. I have never yet written a really successful play, and no work of mine has had a longer run than sixty performances. I have had many chances, of course, but I shall have more.”
"A book of verses underneath the bough,
On the night of his acceptance by Maude Creswell, Walter wrote a long letter to Lady Caroline. He wrote it in his room--the old room in which he used to sleep in his usher-days: he had bargained to have that when he came down--when all the household was in bed, after an evening passed by him in earnest conversation with Maude and Gertrude, while Mr. Benthall busied himself with an arrangement of affairs consequent upon his giving up the school, which he had decided upon doing at midsummer. In the course of that long conversation Walter mentioned that he was about to write to Lady Caroline, acquainting her with what had taken place, and also told the girls of his having consulted her previous to the step which he had taken. He thought this information, as showing Lady Caroline's approbation of the match, would be hailed with great delight; and he was surprised to see a look pass between Maude and Gertrude, and to hear the latter say--
"That was close," he said. "I was about out of proverbs."
There was louder laughter among the Axenites, and more helmets opened. Hartford turned to look behind him. Takeko was hanging by her finger-tips off the shelf, trying to work up the courage to drop. He went over to stand below her. "Fall to me, darling," he said. "Fall into my arms."
“Up with her,” cried another, “she must occupy the throne with him. She shall be his queen.”
I wish the girl would go. I don’t like to look at her so much, and yet I cannot help it. Always that same expression of something that I ought to know,——something that she was made to tell and I to hear,——lying there ready to fall off from her lips, ready to leap out of her eyes and make a saint of me, or a devil or a lunatic, or perhaps a prophet to tell the truth and be hated of men, or a poet whose words shall flash upon the dry stubble-field of worn-out thoughts and burn over an age of lies in an hour of passion.
Yes, rise, fair mount! the bright blue heavens to kiss,
“Not another death?” he breathed.
1.Of course, the thing might not be operating.
2.The first is to me a very great thing indeed, the form and substance of my ideal life, and all the religion I possess. Let me make>
When Serek got a poor pawn-position the Machine simplified the game relentlessly, suddenly discarding its hitherto "Russian" strategy. "It plays like anything but a machine," Doc commented. "We know the reason all too well—Simon Great—but doing something about it is something else again. Great is hitting at our individual weaknesses wonderfully well. Though I think I could play brilliant psychological chess myself if I had a machine to do the detail work." Doc sounded a bit wistful.