1 There is a sound of hammering; it is the box being nailed down.
2 He is an excellent parti, being handsome, well off, and of good birth.
3 His attention was called by the sound of the window being wrenched out.
4 The Count again excused himself, as he had dined out on his being away from home.
5 I was conscious of the presence of the Count, and of his being as if lapped in a storm of fury.
6 Of course I said all I could about being willing, and asked if I might come into that room when I chose.
7 I descended, minding carefully where I went, for the stairs were dark, being only lit by loopholes in the heavy masonry.
8 There is an additional cause in that poor old Mr. Swales was found dead this morning on our seat, his neck being broken.
9 There are but few houses close at hand, one being a very large house only recently added to and formed into a private lunatic asylum.
10 When I had dressed myself I went into the room where we had supped, and found a cold breakfast laid out, with coffee kept hot by the pot being placed on the hearth.
11 Of course my statement must be taken cum grano, since I am writing from the dictation of a clerk of the Russian consul, who kindly translated for me, time being short.
12 As I write there is in the passage below a sound of many tramping feet and the crash of weights being set down heavily, doubtless the boxes, with their freight of earth.
13 Between the inner hand and the wood was a crucifix, the set of beads on which it was fastened being around both wrists and wheel, and all kept fast by the binding cords.
14 I am, I know, either being deceived, like a baby, by my own fears, or else I am in desperate straits; and if the latter be so, I need, and shall need, all my brains to get through.
15 Fortunately, the weather is so hot that she cannot get cold; but still the anxiety and the perpetually being wakened is beginning to tell on me, and I am getting nervous and wakeful myself.
16 This was the being I was helping to transfer to London, where, perhaps, for centuries to come he might, amongst its teeming millions, satiate his lust for blood, and create a new and ever-widening circle of semi-demons to batten on the helpless.
17 Already, however, the legal tongues are wagging, and one young law student is loudly asserting that the rights of the owner are already completely sacrificed, his property being held in contravention of the statutes of mortmain, since the tiller, as emblemship, if not proof, of delegated possession, is held in a dead hand.
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