Learn by the book

That was¹ in May. In November a cold, unseen stranger, whom the doctors called² Pneumonia, stalked³ about the colony, touching one here and there with his icy fingers.⁴ Over on the east side this ravager strode boldly, smiting his victims by scores,⁵ but his feet trod slowly through the maze of the narrow and moss-grown "places."

That was¹ in May. In November a cold, unseen stranger, whom the doctors called² Pneumonia, stalked³ about the colony, touching one here and there with his icy fingers.⁴ Over on the east side this ravager strode⁵ boldly, smiting his victims by scores,⁶ but his feet stepped⁷ slowly through the maze of the narrow and moss-grown "places."

That was¹ in May. In November a cold, unseen stranger, whom the doctors called² Pneumonia, stalked³ about the colony, touching one here and there with his icy fingers.⁴ Over on the east side this monster marched⁵ boldly, striking his victims by scores,⁶ but his feet stepped⁷ slowly through the maze of the narrow and moss-grown "places."

That was¹ in May. In November a cold stranger walked² about the neighbourhood. The doctors called³ him Pneumonia. He touched⁴ one here and there with his freezing fingers. Over on the east side this killer walked⁵ boldly. He struck⁶ his victims by scores, but his feet went⁷ slowly through the narrow and moss-grown places.

That was¹ in May. In November, a cold stranger came² to the area. The doctors called³ him Pneumonia. He touched⁴ people here and there with his cold hands. On the east side, this killer walked⁵ fast and attacked⁶ many people, but he walked⁷ slowly through the small, old streets.

That was¹ in May. In November, a cold stranger came² to the area. The doctors called³ him Pneumonia. He walked⁴ slowly. He touched⁵ people with his cold hands. On the east side, this killer walked⁶ fast and killed⁷ many people. But he walked⁸ slowly through the small, old streets.

When I had waited a long time, very patiently, without hearing him lie down,¹ I resolved² to open a little — a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened³ it — you cannot imagine⁴ how stealthily, stealthily — until, at length a simple dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from out the crevice and fell full upon the vulture eye.⁵

When I had waited a long time, very patiently, without hearing him lie down,¹ I resolved² to open a little — a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened³ it — you cannot imagine⁴ how stealthily, stealthily — until, at length a simple dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from out the crevice and fell full upon the vulture eye.⁵

When I had waited a long time, very patiently, without hearing him lie down,¹ I resolved² to open a little — a very, very little opening in the lantern. So I opened³ it — you cannot imagine⁴ how quietly, quietly — until, at length a simple dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from out the crack and fell full upon the hideous eye.⁵

When I had waited a long time, very quietly, without hearing him lie down,¹ I resolved² to open a little — a very, very little opening in the lamp. So I opened³ it — you cannot imagine⁴ how quietly, how quietly — until at length a faint, dull ray, like the silk of a spider, shot from the narrow opening and fell upon the ugly eye.⁵

When I had waited a long time, very quietly, without hearing him lie down,¹ I decided² to open a very, very small hole in the lamp. So I opened³ it — you cannot imagine⁴ how quietly, how quietly — until at last a simple, weak ray, like a line from a web, shot from the opening and fell upon the ugly eye.⁵

I waited¹ a long time, very quietly. I did not hear² him lie down. So I decided³ to open a very, very small hole in the light. So I opened⁴ it. You cannot imagine⁵ how quietly, how quietly. Then at last, a thin, weak light came⁶ out of the small opening. It was like a thin line. The light fell⁷ on the ugly eye.

It was towards the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most furiously abroad, that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence.¹

It was¹ towards the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion, and while the plague raged most furiously abroad,² that the Prince Prospero entertained³ his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual⁴ magnificence.

Towards the close of the fifth or sixth month of his retreat, while the plague raged most furiously abroad,¹ Prince Prospero entertained² his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual³ elegance.

Near the end of the fifth or sixth month of his isolation, while the disease killed terribly outside,¹ Prince Prospero entertained² his thousand friends at a most magnificent ball.

Five or six months passed.¹ The Red Death still killed² people outside. Then Prince Prospero invited³ his thousand friends to a wonderful ball.

Prince Prospero was¹ alone for five or six months. The Red Death was² still killing people outside. So he had³ a wonderful ball for his many friends.

So now Della’s beautiful hair fell¹ about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters.² It reached³ below her knee and made⁴ itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up⁵ again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered⁶ for a minute and stood⁷ still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.⁸

So now Della's beautiful hair fell¹ about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters.² It reached³ below her knee and made⁴ itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up⁵ again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered⁶ for a minute and stood⁷ still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.⁸

So now Della's beautiful hair fell¹ about her, waving and shining like a cascade of brown waters.² It reached³ below her knee and made⁴ itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up⁵ again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered⁶ for a minute and stood⁷ still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.⁸

So now Della's beautiful hair fell¹ about her. It waved² and shone³ like a waterfall of brown waters. It reached⁴ below her knee and made⁵ itself almost a garment for her. And then she did⁶ it up again, nervous and quickly. She paused⁷ for a moment and stood⁸ still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.⁹

So now Della's beautiful hair fell¹ about her. It shone² like a brown river. It reached³ below her knee and was⁴ almost like a dress for her. And then she did⁵ it up again, nervous and quick. She stopped⁶ for a moment and stood⁷ still while a tear or two splashed on the old red floor.⁸

Della's beautiful hair was¹ very long. It fell² around her, brown and shining, like a river. It went³ below her knee. It was⁴ almost like a dress for her. And then she put⁵ it up again, fast and with shaking hands. She stopped⁶ for a moment and stood⁷ still. A tear or two fell⁸ on the old red floor.

The child moved¹ his little hands, making wild, uncertain gestures.² He uttered³ a series of inarticulate and indescribable cries — something between the chattering of an ape and the gobbling of a turkey — a startling, soulless, unholy sound, the language of a devil. The child was⁴ a deaf mute.

The child moved¹ his little hands, making wild, uncertain gestures.² He let out³ a series of indescribable cries — something between the chattering of an ape and the gobbling of a turkey — a startling, soulless, unholy sound, the language of a devil. The child was⁴ a deaf mute.

The child moved¹ his little hands, making wild, uncertain gestures.² He let out³ a series of indescribable cries — something between the chattering of an ape and the cry of a turkey — a shocking, lifeless, unnatural sound, the language of a devil. The child was⁴ deaf and could not speak.⁵

The child moved¹ his little hands and made² wild, uncertain gestures. He let out³ a series of horrible, unclear cries — something between the noise of an ape and the cry of a turkey — a shocking, empty, ugly sound, the language of a beast. The child was⁴ deaf and silent.

The child moved¹ his little hands and made² wild, uncertain signs. He made³ a number of terrible cries — something between the noise of a monkey and the cry of a turkey — a frightening, ugly sound, the language of a dark creature. The child could not hear⁴ or speak.⁵

The child moved¹ his little hands and made² wild, strange signs. He made³ a noise. It was⁴ something between the noise of a monkey and the noise of a turkey. It was a terrible, ugly sound — the language of something bad. The child did not hear⁵ or speak.⁶

Ulrich was¹ silent for a few minutes, and lay² listening to the weary screeching of the wind.³ An idea was slowly forming⁴ and growing in his brain,⁵ an idea that gained⁶ strength every time that he looked across at the man who was fighting⁷ so grimly against pain and exhaustion. In the pain and languor that Ulrich himself was feeling⁸ the old fierce hatred seemed to be dying⁹ down.

Ulrich was¹ silent for a few minutes, and lay² listening to the weary screeching of the wind.³ An idea was slowly forming⁴ and growing in his brain, an idea that gained⁵ strength every time that he looked across at the man who was fighting⁶ so grimly against pain and exhaustion. In the pain and languor that Ulrich himself was feeling⁷ the old fierce hatred seemed to be dying⁸ down.

Ulrich was¹ silent for a few minutes, and lay² listening to the weary screeching of the wind.³ An idea was slowly forming⁴ and growing in his brain, an idea that gained⁵ strength every time that he looked across at the man who was fighting⁶ so grimly against pain and exhaustion. In the pain and exhaustion that Ulrich himself was feeling,⁷ the old fierce hatred seemed⁸ to be dying down.

Ulrich was¹ silent for a few minutes and lay² there. He listened³ to the tired loud cry of the wind. An idea was slowly forming⁴ and growing in his brain, an idea that gained⁵ strength every time that he looked across at the man who was fighting⁶ so bravely against pain and weakness. In the pain and weakness that Ulrich himself was feeling,⁷ the old strong hatred seemed⁸ to be dying down.

Ulrich was¹ silent for a few minutes and lay² there. He listened³ to the tired cry of the wind. An idea was slowly forming⁴ and growing in his brain, an idea that grew⁵ stronger every time he looked across at the other person who was fighting⁶ so hard against his harm and difficulty. In the difficulty that Ulrich himself was feeling,⁷ the old deep hate seemed⁸ to be dying down.

Ulrich did not speak¹ for a few minutes. He listened² to the tired cry of the wind. A new idea slowly grew³ in his brain. It got⁴ stronger every time he looked⁵ across at the other person. That person fought⁶ so hard against pain. Ulrich himself was⁷ also in great difficulty. His old deep hate seemed⁸ to be going away.