Inspirasi Kediri Bertutur

                                          'But now isn't it, Miss Trotwood, isn't it, David, invigorating,' said Mrs. Markleham, mechanically following her with her eyes, 'to find a man at Doctor Strong's time of life, with the strength of mind to do this kind of thing? It only shows how right I was. I said to Annie, when Doctor Strong paid a very flattering visit to myself, and made her the subject of a declaration and an offer, I said, "My dear, there is no doubt whatever, in my opinion, with reference to a suitable provision for you, that Doctor Strong will do more than he binds himself to do."'
                                          "The small things."

                                                                                  'Ha!' said Mr Du Pont explosively. 'That's the damnedest thing. He's loaded. But loaded! I got my bank to check with Nassau. He's lousy with it. Millionaires are a dime a dozen in Nassau, but he's rated either first or second among them. Seems he keeps his money in gold bars. Shifts them around the world a lot to get the benefit of changes in the gold price. Acts like a damn federal bank. Doesn't trust currencies. Can't say he's wrong in that, and seeing how he's one of the richest men in the world there must be something to his system.' But the point is, if he's as rich as that, what the hell does he want to take a lousy twenty-five grand off me for?*
                                                                                  "Now then," said Drax grimly. "Let's get this over without any fuss. The good Krebs is an artist with one of those things. We used to call him Der Zwangsmann-The Persuader. I shall never forget the way he went over the last spy we caught together. Just south of the Rhine, wasn't it, Krebs?"
                                                                                  I saw the mild eye of the good old Doctor turned upon me for a moment, and I felt that the confession of my old misgivings and remembrances was too plainly written in my face to be overlooked. It was of no use raging. I could not undo that. Say what I would, I could not unsay it.


                                                                                  'To - be - sure,' said Mr. Omer, touching my waistcoat with his forefinger, 'and there was a little child too! There was two parties. The little party was laid along with the other party. Over at Blunderstone it was, of course. Dear me! And how have you been since?'
                                                                                  "I vocalize every day of my life, I keep observing the laws of decent living, and I face every booking as it was my first," he says in a recent telephone interview, contacted at his Westside apartment. "I believe in the adage that the show must go on, but you must not go out at the expense of your health, or impair the quality of your voice by singing against nature."
                                                                                  Bond turned his head and saw that a man had just taken his place at a table on the opposite side of the terrace, well away from them. He seemed ordinary enough, perhaps rather sombrely dressed, but in his first quick glance Bond put him down as some business-man on his way along the coast who had just happened on the inn or had picked it out of the Michelin.
                                                                                  Mr. Phancey finally left me and went over to his wife and, while I smoked a cigarette and finished my second cup of coffee ("No charge, miss. Compliments of The Dreamy Pines"), I heard them talking in a low voice over something that, because of an occasional chuckle, seemed to give them satisfaction. Finally Mrs. Phancey came over, clucking in a motherly fashion about my adventurous plans ("My, oh, my! What will you modern girls be doing next?"), and then she sat down and, looking as winsome as she knew how, said why didn't I stop over for a few days and have a rest and earn myself a handful of dollars into the bargain? It seemed their receptionist had walked out twenty-four hours before and, what with the housekeeping and tidying up before they closed the place for the season, they would have no time to man the desk. Would I care to take on the job of receptionist for the final two weeks-full board and thirty dollars a week?
                                                                                  James Bond took a small blue leather notebook out of his inside pocket and turned the leaves. He stopped turning them. He looked up. "At that time, as side arms, you were carrying a regulation Webley-Scott forty-five with the serial number eight-nine-six-seven-three-sixty-two."

                                                                                                                                                                  鈥楾he dear couple had set their hearts on presenting me with a beautiful, richly embroidered white Cashmere shawl, which the Bibi, I know not how long ago, had bought ... from some one in distress. In vain I expostulated, in vain said that the lovely shawl was fit for the Queen, and that it was not suitable for me to wear anything so handsome; that it might be sold for the Mission. Both the smiling husband and wife were determined to have it round my shoulders; and I had to go away wearing it, though I took it off in the duli, and took care of it, as if it had been a child. Now, the Pandit and his wife want nothing from me; this was no case of giving in hopes of receiving. The whole thing took me by surprise.鈥橖/p>

                                                                                                                                                                                                          I scrambled out of the water and up the sand dune, growing more hopeful with every step. Sure, Istill had forty-eight more miles, but the way it was going, I might be able to steal the first dozen orso before I had to make any real effort. I started climbing the dirt trail just as the sun was slantingover the top of the canyon. Instantly, everything lit up: the glittering river, the shimmering greenforest, the coral snake coiled at my feet….

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  'She is such a dear girl!' said Traddles; 'a little older than me, but the dearest girl! I told you I was going out of town? I have been down there. I walked there, and I walked back, and I had the most delightful time! I dare say ours is likely to be a rather long engagement, but our motto is "Wait and hope!" We always say that. "Wait and hope," we always say. And she would wait, Copperfield, till she was sixty - any age you can mention - for me!'

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          All this time, her daughter Annie never once spoke, or lifted up her eyes. All this time, Mr. Wickfield had his glance upon her as she sat by his own daughter's side. It appeared to me that he never thought of being observed by anyone; but was so intent upon her, and upon his own thoughts in connexion with her, as to be quite absorbed. He now asked what Mr. Jack Maldon had actually written in reference to himself, and to whom he had written?

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  'I said I would be over here and that I would like a game of golf with you.'

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          And the Head of Otdyel II, the woman, Rosa Klebb! Unbelievable things were whispered about this woman, things that came to Tatiana in her nightmares, things she forgot again during the day, but that she now paraded.