A few seconds later, the Angry Man picks up the keyboard and swings it like a baseball bat at his screen—it’s an old PC from the '90s, with a big CRT monitor—whacking it off the desk.
I felt tranquilized while looking at it, as I do when the rosy clouds are fading into gray twilight, and the pale moon-sickle descends slowly behind the dim woods.
When Robert and I arrived in Ning-po we were to report to the British Consul, Mr Thom, but he had been borne away on important business.
God doth worke inwardly in the hearts of sinners, doth excecate and obdurate the minds of men
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