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~::尸兄手游官网版|Jimena Carranza::~

~::尸兄手游官网版|Jimena Carranza::~

                                                              • "Well, ladies and gentlemen, here we have an exceptionally good number to start with. 738. Right in the top range and since I see a lot of new faces here tonight (laughter) I think we can all agree that the sea is exceptionally calm. Ladies and gentlemen. What am I bid for 738? May I say ?50? Will anybody bid me ?50 for this lucky number? 20 was it you said, Sir? Well, we've got to start somewhere. Any increase… 25. Thank you, madam. And 30. 40 over there, steward. And 45 from my friend Mr Rothblatt. Thank you, Charlie. Any increase on ?45 for No738? 50. Thank you, madam, and now we're all back where we started. (Laughter.) Any increase on ?50? Nobody tempted? High number. Calm sea. ?50. Will anybody say 55? Going at ?50. Going once. Going twice." And the raised hammer fell with a bang.The Red Roses laundry van watched the front door shut behind James Bond and then moved off at a sedate speed to its garage not far from Scotland Yard while the process of developing the Canonflex film went on in its interior.

                                                                "Security work. I've come across guys like you before. Thought I could smell the cop-smell." Scaramanga looked satisfied that his guess had been right. "Did you get anywhere?"M. snorted and threw his cards down. Bond automatically gathered in the pack and as automatically gave it the Scarne shuffle, marrying the two halves with the quick downward riffle that never brings the cards off the table. He squared off the pack and pushed it away.

                                                                                                                          • They gazed down at the holiday crowd. The sun shone through the tall clean windows of the station in golden shafts. The sparkling scene emphasized the dark and dirt of the countries the train had come from, and Bond watched with an almost sensuous pleasure the gaily dressed people pass through the patches of sunshine towards the entrance, and the sunburned people, the ones who had had their holidays, hasten up the platform to get their seats on the train.

                                                                                                                            'I thought you were at Plymouth, ma'am,' I said to Mrs. Micawber, as he went out.

                                                                                                                                                                                      • Bond went back to his ball. Now then, relax! To hell with Goldfinger. Slam that ball on to the green. Just stand still and hit it. There was a moment when the world stood still, then… then somehow Bond did hit it - on a low trajectory that mounted gracefully to carry the distant surf of the bunkers. The ball hit the bank below the green, bounced high with the impact and rolled out of sight into the saucer round the pin.

                                                                                                                                                                                        AND INDIA.