The lost world

Snapp

"Mr Malone is here to talk Let you down Jessie" Say'please 'and you come down "Oh you beast!"! Please! Please He put her down like she was a bird Behave yourself my dear Mr Malone is a reporter He'll print it all in tomorrow's paper and sell a lot of extra copies in our neighborhood Challenger said humorously Then he changed his tone Mr Malone please excuse the family teasing I called you back for something more serious than that He put his giant hands on her shoulders Don't be angry little woman Everything you said is absolutely correct If empty cosmetic tubes I had followed your advice I would have been a good man but there would have been no George Edward Challenger There are good men my dear but there is only one George Edward Challenger He gave her a sudden kiss Now Mr Malone this way please We went back to the house where we had left ten minutes before

The professor closed the door carefully behind me settled me in an armchair and pushed the cigar case in front of me "Sit back in your chair" he said "and listen to everything I'm willing to tell you and don't interrupt me" "In the first place about your returning to my house after being deservedly turned away" he stared at me as if challenging or waiting for a rebuttal "the reason is in your answer to the policeman from which I see that you have a certain good sentiment in that respect beyond what I am used to seeing in your line of work anyway Admitting that the fault lies with you proves that there is a certain breadth in your realm I ask you to come back with me because I intend to make friends with you further He talked about all this like a professor lecturing to his class Suddenly he took out a tattered sketchbook from his desk "I want to tell you about South America" he said "First of all I want you to understand that nothing I tell you now can be communicated to anyone in any public form except with my permission"

It is entirely possible that such permission will never be granted Is that clear "It's hard" I said There must be a short report He replaced the sketchbook on the desk "Then it's over" he said Goodbye "No no!" Cried I I submit to any condition As far as I understand I have no choice "Absolutely not" "All right then I promise cosmetic plastic tube " "On your honor" "On my honor" He looked at me with a look of doubt in his haughty eyes What do I know of your honor He said "Indeed sir" I exclaimed crossly "You are too easy on me and I have never been so insulted in my life" When I say this he seems more interested than angry Are you a Celtic He asked I'm Irish sir "The Irish of the Irish race" "Yes sir" Of course that explains it [Note 2] Let me see You have promised me that nothing I tell you shall be communicated in any public way unless you have my permission I'm going to tell you something It's interesting First you probably know that two years ago I took a trip to South America a trip that will become a classic in the history of world science

The purpose of my trip was to test some of the conclusions of Wallace and Bates This verification can only be achieved by observing the facts they report under the same conditions as they themselves observe the facts If my exploration had not turned out differently it would still have been useful but I met with a strange accident there which opened up a whole new field for my exploration You know — or probably you don't know in this age of low culture — that the area around certain sections of the Amazon is not yet fully developed and that a large number of tributaries (some of which are not recorded at all on the map) join the Main River It was my duty to visit these little known areas and examine the fauna there The materials I found there could write several chapters of great and monumental works on zoology which would become the identification of my life

When my work was finished and I was walking back I spent the night in an Indian Hamlet where a tributary whose name and position I will not say joined the Main River The local people are Gukama Indians On the way up the river I cured some of them and they were so impressed with my character that I found them eagerly awaiting my return I knew from their gestures that someone needed my pump tube help so I followed the leader into one of their huts When I entered I found the man dead To my surprise he was not an Indian but a white man a typical white man because he had flaxen hair His clothes were torn I knew from the gestures of the locals that they didn't know him at all He had walked through the jungle to their village alone and his energy was completely exhausted

The man's backpack lay beside the bed and I checked the contents His name was written on the bag Mapleo White Michigan Detroit Lake Shore Drive a name I'm going to tip my hat to forever It is not too much to say that when the cause comes to fruition the name will be on a par with my own According to the contents of the backpack the man was a painter and a poet There are several poems I am not a connoisseur of this sort of thing but it seems to me that these poems are badly written There are also some pictures of rivers A paintbox a box of crayons a couple of paintbrushes and that crooked bone that's sitting on my inkwell now a cheap revolver and a few bullets That's all that weird American has I was about to put these things down when I saw something sticking out of his jacket pocket and it was this sketchbook which was as broken as you see it now I'll hand it to you and ask you to look at it page by page and think about the content 。 emptycosmetictubes.com