Genre - Short Story. You are on the page - 7

r. It came to me suddenly that I had the kind of feeling one has in the aisle of a large cathedral. There was a sort of echo in the night--an incredibly faint reduplicating of the noise of our oars."Hark!" I said, audibly; not realizing at first that I was speaking aloud. "There's an echo--" "That's it!" the Captain cut in, sharply. "I thought I heard something rummy!" . . . "I thought I heard something rummy," said a thin ghostly echo, out of

They walked toward a house of colored rocks."Miss Daphne Trilling's," said Mr. Greypoole, gesturing. "They threw it up in a day, though it's solid enough." When they had passed an elderly woman on a bicycle, Captain Webber stopped walking. "Mr. Greypoole, we've got to have a talk." Mr. Greypoole shrugged and pointed and they went into an office building which was crowded with motionless men, women and children. "Since I'm so mixed up myself," the captain

of him was as near murder as Wearycould come. Glory had been belabored with worse things than hatsduring his eventful career; he laid back his ears, shut his eyes tightand took it meekly.There came a gasping gurgle from the hammock, and Weary's hand stoppedin mid-air. The girl's head was burrowed in a pillow and her slipperstapped the floor while she laughed and laughed. Weary delivered a parting whack, put on his hat and looked at heruncertainly; grinned sheepishly when the humor of the thing

sary labours to the officers of the ship, and the soldiers,who had made uncommon exertions. Roused by a sense of theirdanger, the same seamen, at this moment, in frantic exclamations,demanded of heaven and their fellow-sufferers that succour whichtheir own efforts, timely made, might possibly have procured.'The ship continued to beat on the rocks; and soon bilging, fellwith her broadside towards the shore. When she struck, a number ofthe men climbed up the ensign-staff, under an apprehension of