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She was generally sound, with no especial delicacy; she did not suffer from any tendency to headache; she was not fussy, or self-indulgent, or dainty as to her eating, or particular as to personal comforts, or squeamish as to her surroundings, or shy in making new friends, or afraid of toil and trouble. All these things were in her favour. She was in fact no timid shrinking Miss Toosey,—dear little old lady that Miss Toosey was!—but a fine spirited specimen of A middle-aged Lady of England,—well fitted, it might be, to become even then A Lady of India. Those who think of following the example of A. L. O. E. ought to possess at least some of her qualifications. Had a Miss Toosey, instead of a Miss Tucker, been the Pioneer of elderly ladies in the Mission-field, the attempt would have been a disastrous failure.

The tricoteuses of the French Revolution must have had faces like hers, decided Kronsteen, sitting back in his chair and tilting his head slightly to one side. The thinning orange hair scraped back to the tight, obscene bun; the shiny yellow-brown eyes that stared so coldly at General G. through the sharp-edged squares of glass, the wedge of thickly powdered, large-pored nose; the wet trap of a mouth, that went on opening and shutting as if it was operated by wires under the chin. Those French women, as they sat and knitted and chatted while the guillotine clanged down, must have had the same pale, thick chicken's skin that scragged in little folds under the eyes and at the corners of the mouth and below the jaws, the same big peasant's ears, the same tight, hard dimpled fists, like knobkerries, that, in the case of the Russian woman, now lay tightly clenched on the red velvet table-top on either side of the big bundle of bosom. And their faces must have conveyed the same impression, concluded Kronsteen, of coldness and cruelty and strength as this, yes, he had to allow himself the emotive word, dreadful woman of SMERSH.

"Sure," said Leiter. He slipped his steel hook into the right-hand pocket of his coat and took Bond's arm with his left hand. They moved out on to the street and Bond noticed that Leiter walked with a heavy limp. "In Texas even the fleas are so rich they can hire themselves dogs. Let's go. Sardi's is just over the way."@ce褂虀F俓B b礇傖 驻?嚨GB-x瑷Gg佁m涗紣/T詟LP粫n癆翇扇Ff9H9` B g]:2Z(X渶"轧?=輝E#AAX8悈,0a絺釧芇(餤b'贬侫 TUG hooted on the river. Another answered. A flurry of engine noises receded.

'Lord bless you, sir!' exclaimed my aunt, in her abrupt way. 'What are you talking about?'