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Elinor had heard enough, if not to gratify her vanity and raise her self-importance, to agitate her nerves and fill her mind; and she was therefore glad to be spared from the necessity of saying much in reply herself, and from the danger of hearing anything more from her brother, by the entrance of Mr. Robert Ferrars. After a few moments' chat, John Dashwood, recollecting that Fanny was yet uninformed of his sister's being there, quitted the room in quest of her; and Elinor was left to improve her acquaintance with Robert, who, by the gay unconcern, the happy self-complacency of his manner while enjoying so unfair a division of his mother's love and liberality, to the prejudice of his banished brother, earned only by his own dissipated course of life, and that brother's integrity, was confirming her most unfavourable opinion of his head and heart.
They had scarcely been two minutes by themselves, before he began to speak of Edward; for he too had heard of the living, and was very inquisitive on the subject. Elinor repeated the particulars of it, as she had given them to John, and their effect on Robert, though very different, was not less striking than it had been on him. He laughed most immoderately. The

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"She is coming in the spring, and I mean that you shall be all ready to see and enjoy her. I'm going to have you well and rosy by that time." began Jo, feeling that of all the changes in Beth, the talking change was the greatest, for it seemed to cost no effort now, and she thought aloud in a way quite unlike bashful Beth.
"Jo, dear, don't hope any more. It won't do any good. I'm sure of that. We won't be miserable, but enjoy being together while we wait. We'll have happy times, for I don't suffer much, and I think the tide will go out easily, if you help me."
Jo leaned down to kiss the tranquil face, and with that silent kiss, she dedicated herself soul and body to Beth.
She was right. There was no need of any words when they got home, for Father and Mother saw plainly now what they had prayed to be saved from seeing. Tired with her short journey, Beth went at once to bed, saying how glad she was to be home, and when Jo went down, she found that she would be spared the hard task of telling Beth's secret. Her father stood leaning his head on the mantelpiece and did not turn as she came in, but her mother stretched out her arms as if for help, and Jo went to comfort her without a word.

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"We've a new lodger!" she cried. "And - and, Bunting? He's quite the gentleman! He actually offered to pay four weeks in advance, at two guineas a week."
"No, never!"
Bunting moved quickly round the table, and together they stood there, fascinated by the little heap of gold. "But there's ten sovereigns here," he said suddenly.
"Yes, the gentleman said I'd have to buy some things for him to-morrow. And, oh, Bunting, he's so well spoken, I really felt that - I really felt that - " and then Mrs. Bunting, taking a step or two sideways, sat down, and throwing her little black apron over her face burst into gasping sobs.
Bunting patted her back timidly. "Ellen?" he said, much moved by her agitation, "Ellen? Don't take on so, my dear - "
"I won't," she sobbed, "I - I won't! I'm a fool - I know I am! But, oh, I didn't think we was ever going to have any luck again!"

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When Craddock got to 4 Madison Road he found Lucy Eyelesbarrow with Miss Marple.
He hesitated for a moment on his plan of campaign and then decided that Lucy Eyelesbarrow might prove a valuable ally.
After greetings, he solemnly drew out his notecase, extracted three pound notes, added three shillings and pushed them across the table to Miss Marple.
"What's this Inspector?"
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Consultation fee. You're a consultant - on murder! Pulse, temperature, local reactions, possible deep-seated cause of said murder. I'm just the poor harassed local G.P."
Miss Marple looked at him and twinkled. He grinned at her. Lucy Eyelesbarrow gave a faint gasp and then laughed.
"Why, Inspector Craddock – you're human after all."
"Oh, well, I'm not strictly on duty this afternoon."
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Her eyes, gentle and mischievous, went from one to another.
It was clear that she suggested to them something that they had never thought of and which they did not find overpleasing.
Miss Marple rose to her feet, dropping as she did so, several little woolly scarves and her bag.
The three brothers were most attentive picking things up.
"So kind of you," fluted Miss Marple. "Oh, yes, and my little blue muffler. Yes – as I say - so kind to ask me here. I've been picturing, you know, just what your home was like – so that I can visualise dear Lucy working here."
"Perfect home conditions – with murder thrown in," said Cedric.
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"Cedric!" Harold's voice was angry.
Miss Marple smiled up at Cedric.
"Do you know who you remind me of? Young Thomas Eade, our bank manager's son. Always out to shock people. It didn't do in banking circles, of course, so he went to the West Indies…. He came home when his father died and inherited quite a lot of money. So nice for him. He was always better at spending money than making it."
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I well remember the arrival of A B C's third letter. I may say that all precautions had been taken so that when A B C resumedhis campaign there should be no unnecessary delays.A young sergeant fromScotland Yard was attached to the house and if Poirot and I were out it washis duty to open anything that came so as to be able to communicate withheadquaters without loss of time. As the days succedded each other we had all grown more and more on edge. Inspector Crome's aloof and superior manner grew more and more aloof andsuperior as one by one his more hopeful clues petered out.The vaguedescriptions of men said to have been seen with Betty Barnard proveduseless.
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Various cars noticed in the vicinity of Bexhill and Cooden wereeither accounted for or could not be traced.The investigation of purchasesof A B C railway guides caused inconvenience and trouble to heaps ofinnocent people. As for ourselves，each time the postman's familiar rat-tat sounded onthe door，our hearts beat faster with apprehension.At least that was truefor me，and I cannot but believe that Poirot experienced the same sensation. He was，I knew，deeply unhappy over the case.He refused to leave London，preferring to be on the spot in case of emergency.In those hot dog days evenhis moustaches drooped-neglected for once by their owner. It was on a Friday that A B C's third letter came.The evening postarrived about ten o'clock.
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The other shook his head. "No-no-I can't say I do.Unless you are Mr Lucas's-what do they callit?-junior.Or perhaps you come from Mr.Maynard?" (Maynard ＆Cole were the defending solicitors.)His tone was polite butnot very interested.He seemed absorbed in some inner abstraction. "I am Hercule Poirot......" Poirot said the words very gently......and watched for the effect. Mr Cust raised his head a little. "Oh，yes?" He said it as naturally as Inspector Crome might have said it-butwithout the superciliousness.
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Then，a minute later，he repeated his remark. "Oh，yes?"he said，and this time his tone was different-it held anawakened interest.He raised his head and looked at Poirot. Hercule Poirot met his gaze and nodded his own head gently once or twice. "Yes，"he said."I am the man to whom you wrote the letters." At once the contact was broken.Mr Cust dropped his eyes and spokeirritably and fretfully. "I never wrote to you.Those letters weren't written by me.I've said soagain and again." "I know，"said Poirot."But if you did not write them，who did?" "An enemy.I must have an enemy.They are all against me.Thepolice-everyone-all against me.It's gigantic conspiracy."
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snug and warm, and she slept soundly until morning.
When it was daylight, the girl bathed her face in a little rippling brook, and soon after they all started toward the Emerald City.
This was to be an eventful day for the travelers. They had hardly been walking an hour when they saw before them a great ditch that crossed the road and divided the forest as far as they could see on either side.
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It was a very wide ditch, and when they crept up to the edge and looked into it they could see it was also very deep, and there were many big, jagged rocks at the bottom. The sides were so steep that none of them could climb down, and for a moment it seemed that their journey must end.
"What shall we do?" asked Dorothy despairingly.
"I haven't the faintest idea," said the Tin Woodman, and the Lion shook his shaggy mane and looked thoughtful.
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The crowd fell apart to admit a constable, who approached and was about to lay his hand upon the king's shoulder, when Hendon said:
"Gently, good friend, withhold your hand-he shall go peaceably; I am responsible for that. Lead on, we will follow."
The officer led, with the woman and her bundle; Miles and the king followed after, with the crowd at their heels. The king was inclined to rebel; but Hendon said to him in a low voice
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"Reflect, sire-your laws are the wholesome breath of your own royalty; shall their source reject them, yet require the branches to respect them? Apparently, one of these laws has been broken; when the king is on his throne again, can it ever grieve him to remember that when he was seemingly a private person he loyally sunk the king in the citizen and submitted to its authority?" Decorative painting

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Chapter XXIII
ll afternoon it went on snowing; and the three of them sat there, listening and waiting - Bunting and his wife hardly knew for what; Daisy for the knock which would herald Joe Chandler.
And about four there came the now familiar sound.
Mrs. Bunting hurried out into the passage, and as she opened the front door she whispered, "We haven't said anything to Daisy yet. Young girls can't keep secrets."
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Chandler nodded comprehendingly. He now looked the low character he had assumed to the life, for he was blue with cold, disheartened, and tired out.
Daisy gave a little cry of shocked surprise, of amusement, of welcome, when she saw how cleverly he was disguised.
"I never!" she exclaimed. "What a difference it do make, to be sure! Why, you looks quite horrid, Mr. Chandler."
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When Bunting at 1ast came back, his wife listened silently while he told her of the extraordinary excitement reigning everywhere. And then, after he had been talking a long while, she suddenly shot a strange look at him.
"I suppose you went to see the place?" she said.
And guiltily he acknowledged that he had done so.
"Well?"
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"Well, there wasn't anything much to see - not now. But, oh, Ellen, the daring of him! Why, Ellen, if the poor soul had had time to cry out - which they don't believe she had - it's impossible someone wouldn't 'a heard her. They say that if he goes on doing it like that - in the afternoon, like - he never will be caught. He must have just got mixed up with all the other people within ten seconds of what he'd done!" Decorative painting

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I am leaving to get my proofs - for the irrefutable evidence of the murderer's guilt.' Our reporter departed. For a long time we were without news from him; but, a week ago, a stranger called upon our manager and said: 'Act in accordance with the instructions of Joseph Rouletabille, if it becomes necessary to do so. The letter left by him holds the truth.' The gentleman who brought us this message would not give us his name.
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"To-day, the 15th of January, is the day of the trial. Joseph Rouletabille has not returned. It may be we shall never see him again. The press also counts its heroes, its martyrs to duty. It may be he is no longer living. We shall know how to avenge him. Our manager will, this afternoon, be at the Court of Assize at Versailles, with the letter - the letter containing the name of the murderer!"
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"I am again at the window-sill," continues Rouletabille, "and once more I raise my head above it. Through an opening in the curtains, the arrangement of which has not been changed, I am ready to look, anxious to note the position in which I am going to find the murderer, - whether his back will still be turned towards me! - whether he is still seated at the desk writing! But perhaps - perhaps - he is no longer there!
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how could he have fled? - Was I not in possession of his ladder? I force myself to be cool. I raise my head yet higher. I look - he is still there. I see his monstrous back, deformed by the shadow thrown by the candle. He is no longer writing now, and the candle is on the parquet, over which he is bending - a position which serves my purpose.
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"Who has taught you to take things that do not belong to you?"
"I was hungry."
"Hunger, my boy, is no reason for taking something which belongs to another."
"It's true, it's true!" cried Pinocchio in tears. "I won't do it again."
Just then, the conversation was interrupted by approaching footsteps. It was the owner of the field, who was coming on tiptoes to see if, by chance, he had caught the Weasels which had been eating his chickens.
Great was his surprise when, on holding up his lantern, he saw that, instead of a Weasel, he had caught a boy!
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Ah, you little thief!" said the Farmer in an angry voice. "So you are the one who steals my chickens!"
We have hundreds more books for your enjoyment. Read them all!
"Not I! No, no!" cried Pinocchio, sobbing bitterly. "I came here only to take a very few grapes."
"He who steals grapes may very easily steal chickens also. Take my word for it, I'll give you a lesson that you'll remember for a long while."
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No, young man, I don't think so. Mademoiselle always had a nightlight on her table, and I lit it every evening before she went to bed. I was a sort of chambermaid, you must understand, when the evening came. The real chambermaid did not come here much before the morning. Mademoiselle worked late - far into the night."
"Where did the table with the night-light stand, - far from the bed?"
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Some way from the bed."
"Can you light the burner now?"
"The lamp is broken and the oil that was in it was spilled when the table was upset. All the rest of the things in the room remain just as they were. I have only to open the blinds for you to see."
"Wait."
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音刚落，一阵冷场。
“哈哈哈。果然新鲜，有趣有趣。”想不到先破功的是稳重的大阿哥。
众人尽皆大笑。场上气氛热烈，不经意间瞄见，老四居然一改冰山本色，嘴角上扬，扯出一个极淡极淡的笑来，他笑起来还真好看。
十四跟我碰碰杯，一仰脖喝了干净。对着我照照杯底，他眼里有深深的甜蜜和爱恋。
心里一紧，我低下头去喝了杯中酒，坐下来。他陷得那么深，怎么办？
唉，我注定要伤害他吗？我真的忍心伤害他吗？
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一只手轻轻握住我的手，胤禵再也没有望我，高兴地喝了一杯又一杯。
终是有人不胜酒力，一个个倒在了酒场上。
十五和我已经回不了宫了。
胤禛并未喝太多，全部人好像就他最清醒。“今晚十五和阿颖就住在我府里。”他走过去抱起十五，淡淡留下一句就闪了。
我想站起来跟他一起走，可是却被胤禵拽住。“不要走，陪我。”
”今晚你很美，跟平时的样子很不一样。”抬着我的下巴，迫我直视着他。他的眼睛宝光灿烂，并不像喝过那么多酒的人，可是我知道，他醉了。 Decorative painting

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胤礽一愕，说不出话来。
“保成啊！不是阿奶逼你，你可要想清楚了！”皇太后抹着泪道：“江山、美人，孰轻孰重？要做一个好皇帝，就不能有痴，有嗔，要懂得戒，要懂得忍啊！”
听到皇太后唤自己的乳名，胤礽热泪盈眶，扑到皇太后怀中道：“皇阿奶，孙子都听您的，孙子全都听您的！”
祖孙两人抱头痛哭，外面的胤禛回过神来，见一旁还在震惊中的胤禟和胤礻我，忙轻推了两人。待他们醒悟过来，觉得此时不宜进去，便都悄然退下。
“四哥的东西有那么好吗？”散席后，胤禟含酸
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“四哥的东西有那么好吗？”散席后，胤禟含酸地看着尘芳将那玉佛用红绫子包好，交给绵凝，嘱咐她妥善保管。
尘芳白了他一眼，道：“有时间喝这飞醋，还不如去干些正经事。”
胤禟呵呵一笑，“我那对东海龙凤珠可是世间难寻的宝贝，你就瞄了那么一眼，是不是太厚此薄彼了。”
尘芳见他委屈的模样，不禁笑道：“都多大了，还跟个孩子似的。难怪有时候，会和兰吟一起疯得胡天海地的。”
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“那可怎么好，去山西？难不成要运车馊了的奶回来啊！”剑柔嚷道：“我去问爷，何不买头牛回来，养在家里，既省事又新鲜。”
“我的好妹妹！”崔严克笑道：“你看京城哪家王府里会养头牛啊！”
剑柔点着他的额头道：“别家没有，独咱家有，岂不妙哉！”说着，便往屋里走去。
郎氏见崔严克竟未阻止，气得浑身发抖，上前一把扯住剑柔道：“爷现在谁也不见，你个贱丫头凭什么擅闯？”
“凭什么？”剑柔甩开她的手道：“与庶福晋您无关。”
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死丫头！”郎氏抬起手，剑柔眼明手快的握住她的手臂道：“奴婢再有错，也轮不到您管教！”
两人僵持着，郎氏只觉手腕作痛，急道：‘贱丫头，你还不放手，小心我辗了你的手指！”
剑柔冷笑道：“那奴婢倒要看看您有没有这个本事了！”
路过的绵凝看到此景，忙跑过去扯开剑柔，死拽着她来到别处，方道：“格格不是早就吩咐过，凡事要以和为贵，你怎么反倒和个主子杠上了？”
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看着越来越近的粉面，闻着越来越浓郁的幽香，龙飞玉非但没有觉得艳福非浅，反而觉得惊恐万状。可现在自己既无力反抗，又无路可退，难道今日真的要失身于此？
“失身”！想不到他堂堂靖南侯世子、威武的大将军也会有用上这个词的一天！
龙飞玉开始有些体会到那些受辱女子的感受，也难怪会有人以死相抗，这实在是太屈辱了。可他不能啊！女子为保节而死是贞烈，一个大将军为保节而死是笑话。
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罢了，反正自己也不是未经情事的毛头小子，就当是还在家时与侍妾欢好吧。想到这里，龙飞玉放弃了无谓的争扎，平躺在床上，闭上双眼，命令自己把眼前人想象成玲珑、苏雪琴、或是别的什么人都行……
耳边灼热的气息突然消失了，龙飞玉正想睁开眼，又察觉那人再次向他附下身来，微凉的唇在他的下颌磨蹭，发稍刺得他的脖颈痒痒的，还伴随着一股淡淡的——骚味？
龙飞玉猛然睁开眼，刚好来得及看到一张肥肥的猫脸从他眼前掠过。
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艳红很熟悉这股媚态，这是中了媚药的反应。她心想，难道是白日里跟着老道士来做法事的小道童之一，被楼里的哪个姐妹给看上了，所以下了药。
烛光的闪动触动了少年，他的眼睛慢慢睁开，虽然眼神有些涣散，但艳红还是不由地暗赞一声——好漂亮的眼睛。
少年的眼神落到了艳红的身上，突然挣扎出一丝清明，“你快走！别、别靠过来！”
艳红闻言心生不悦，心想：“怎么，认出我是楼里的姑娘就嫌我脏了，即使是身子想要也还是要赶我走。“于是故意把身子靠过去，娇笑一声，说道：“小道长真的不需要我帮忙吗？”
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艳红知道此时自己身上的幽香也就等于是催人情动的媚药，她满意地看到少年身体的抽动。但少年却闭上了双眼，然后身子微震，发出一声闷哼，然后再睁开双眼，里面竟是清澈得不见一丝杂质。
艳红一惊，眼角一瞥，发现少年的右腿上竟插了一把匕首，鲜血已染红了月牙白的道袍。
“姑娘快走，我受人陷害，中了媚药，恐会伤害姑娘，姑娘还是快快离开，或是让人将我绑住，直到药效过去……”
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