Page:Where the Dead Men Lie.djvu/93

Rh They lay quite secure in the crook of the handle, She clutched them—the parasol fell underneath. I tell you no girl ever could hold a candle To Poll, as she hung back and clenched her white teeth.



The bolters sped downward, with nostrils distended, She must get a pull on them ere they should reach The fence on the hill, where the road had been mended ... The blocks bit the wheels with a scroop and a screech;