三界独尊满v手游|kediribertutur

Inspirasi Kediri Bertutur

                                                                    • Bond pitched forward on to the floor and lay sprawled under the funereal violet light.
                                                                      I said shortly, "Oh, that was only a joke about the motel soap. He said it was too strongly scented."

                                                                                                                                        • Vesper blushed.
                                                                                                                                          James Bond choked back the sickness that rose from his stomach into the back of his throat. He staggered to his feet, keeping low. He reached up for the accelerator lever and pushed it upwards. A pitched battle with the train at a standstill would put the odds even more against him. He hardly felt the pain in his shoulder. He edged round the right-band side of the tender. Four guns boomed. He flung his head back under cover. Now the hoods were shooting, but wildly because of the interference of the surrey top. But Bond had had time to see one glorious sight. In the brake van, Scaramanga had slid from his throne and was down on his knees, his head moving to and fro like a wounded animal. Where in hell had Bond hit him? And now what? How was he going to deal with the four hoods, just as badly obscured from him as he was from them?

                                                                                                                                          ‘I send you a character-teller, my love,
                                                                                                                                          A moment, and I occupy my place in the Cathedral, where we all went together, every Sunday morning, assembling first at school for that purpose. The earthy smell, the sunless air, the sensation of the world being shut out, the resounding of the organ through the black and white arched galleries and aisles, are wings that take me back, and hold me hovering above those days, in a half-sleeping and half-waking dream.

                                                                                                                                           

                                                                                                                                          'But, but…'
                                                                                                                                          But there had been no doubt about the girl. In the sniperscope, Bond had even been able to see one wide, heavily lashed, aiming eye. Had he hurt her? Almost certainly her left arm. There would be no chance of seeing her, seeing how she was, if she left with the orchestra. Now he would never see her again. Bond's window would be a death trap. To underline the fact, a stray bullet smashed into the mechanism of the Winchester, already overturned and damaged, and hot lead splashed down on Bond's hand, burning the skin. On Bond's emphatic oath, the firing stopped abruptly and silence sang in the room.
                                                                                                                                          CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE T.L.C. TREATMENT
                                                                                                                                          "Come to make a fourth at gin?"
                                                                                                                                          Chapter 16 Beverley

                                                                                                                                                                                                            • Mathis looked at him with his mouth open.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                • "Can't complain," said the tall young man. "Too much expense-account aristocracy. Never enough pretty girls around. You ought to come in more often." He smiled at Bond. "Everything all right?"

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    • Rise and Immortalize their Mortal Clay.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        • I listened attentively to the good old fellow, and acquiesced, with all my heart, in what he said.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            • Kissy smiled into his eyes and the sun shone on his back and, so far as James Bond was concerned, it was a beautiful day just like all the other days had been - without a cloud in the sky.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                • When I had been at Winchester something over three years, my father returned to England and took me away. Whether this was done because of the expense, or because my chance of New College was supposed to have passed away, I do not know. As a fact, I should, I believe, have gained the prize, as there occurred in my year an exceptional number of vacancies. But it would have served me nothing, as there would have been no funds for my maintenance at the University till I should have entered in upon the fruition of the founder’s endowment, and my career at Oxford must have been unfortunate.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    • Col. The girls—the young Ladies seem much grown, much improved.