in the high, old tottering voice that seemed to have been tuned and broken at the capstan bars. Then he rapped on the door with a bit of stick like a handspike that he carried, and when my father appeared, called roughly for a glass of rum. This, when it was brought to him, he drank slowly, like a connoisseur, lingering on the taste and still looking about him at the cliffs and up at our signboard.
Robert Louis StevensonAbout author
- Author's profession: Writer
- Nationality: scottish
- Born: November 13, 1850
- Died: December 3, 1894
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Faye burst into the room. She ignored Homer and went straight to the couch. Now what in hell's the matter?" she exploded. Darling daughter," he said. "I have been badly taken, and this gentleman has been kind enough to let me rest for a moment."He had a fit or something," Homer said. She whirled around on him so suddenly that he was startled. How do you do?" she said, holding her hand forward and high up. He shook it gingerly. Charmed," she said, when he mumbled something. She spun around...
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