By C. S. Forester
An omnibus variation compromising of 4 C S Forester's vintage seafaring stories approximately Horatio Hornblower, specifically: Flying shades, The Commodore, Lord Hornblower and Hornblower within the West Indies.
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And how did you like the dead possum on his head? Anyway, there was much activity behind closed doors which I assume didn’t end with hugs and kisses from the looks of Madame. And just now, when I tried to give the tiniest bit of advice to the lovelorn, she snapped my head off. Um-um-um,” he said as we both turned to watch Fleur emerge from her office. “Look at that face. Not a happy bunny. ” “Sake,” I said. ” “Oh, God, raw fish. Eating like seals. ” As Fleur drew closer, her fake customersmile fading, Quincy hoisted his bulk from the banquette.
Well, you seemed somewhat emotional in there with Bethany. ” “Oh, for godssakes. She’s a pompous pain in the ass. And out of bounds. Where does she get off telling me who to treat? ” “You’ve done five procedures without charge so far this year, Gwyn. Look, I know the Clinic was close to your heart and you feel we should take up the slack now that it’s shut down. ” “This is a highly lucrative operation. ” “The times they are a-changing,” Neil said. “We cannot afford liberal largesse. ” I’d heard this too many times before.
He spoke in a code I was beginning to understand although it wasn’t always consistent. This time I was pretty sure he was trying to tell me Stan had been there. My exhusband visited my father once or twice a week. Occasionally, he gave him a close shave with a safety razor, unlike the quick swipe with an electric shaver Sylvie gave him. Credit where it’s due, Stan may have walked out on me, but he hadn’t deserted my father. Before he could tell me more, Sylvie grabbed the phone. “Mr. Harald came into my room, stuck his hand under the pillow, and stole the phone from where I was hiding it.
Admiral Hornblower by C. S. Forester