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Practice and improve writing style. Write like Ernest Hemingway

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The two of them went out the door and no one looked back at anyone.

 

Inside the booth the Colonel lifted the receiver and said, automatically, 'Colonel Cantwell speaking.'

 

'No. I simply think he is a British General. Whatever that means. And don't you use the term.'

 

'You use the word our with facility. I like it though.'

 

'Guess now,' she said. 'And please wait until after we have gone under the second bridge.'

 

The music started and Robert Cohn said: “Will you dance this with me, Lady Brett?”

 

I did not feel the first trout strike. When I started to pull up I felt that I had one and brought him, fighting and bending the rod almost double, out of the boiling water at the foot of the falls, and swung him up and onto the dam. He was a good trout, and I banged his head against the timber so that he quivered out straight, and then slipped him into my bag.

 

“Nix,” I said. “We’re going to have a regular meal.”

 

“What a morning!” Bill said. “The damn police kept arresting chaps that wanted to go and commit suicide with the bulls.”

 

He cut off the end of his cigar with a gold cutter he wore on one end of his watch-chain.

 

Wilson spoke in Swahili to the driver. He nodded and said, 'Yes, Bwana.'

 

'I have been here for two weeks and nothing. I wait and they will not see me.'

 

In war the dead are usually the male of the human species, although this does not hold true with animals, and I have frequently seen dead mares among the horses. An interesting aspect of war, too, is that it is only there that the naturalist has an opportunity to observe the dead of mules. In twenty years of observation in civil life I had never seen a dead mule and had begun to entertain doubts as to whether these animals were really mortal. On rare occasions I had seen what I took to be dead mules, but on close approach these always proved to be living creatures who seemed to be dead through their quality of complete repose. But in war these animals succumb in much the same manner as the more common and less hardy horse.

 

Bill poured it out. Nick splashed in a little water.

 

'You can take it or leave it,' Retana said. He leaned forward over the papers. He was no longer interested. The appeal that Manuel had made to him for a moment when he thought of the old days was gone. He would like to get him to substitute for Larita because he could get him cheaply. He could get others cheaply too. He would like to help him, though. Still he had given him the chance. It was up to him.

 

 

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