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-[{"idx": 58029, "candidates": {"0": "laughing", "1": "muttered"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201cJust for the pleasure of showing me that I did n't know how to walk in the road I made myself,\u201d said Harcourt, |0|laughing|0|.\n\n<|Q|>\u201cWhat a happy laugh that was, Harcourt! How plainly, too, it said, 'Thank Heaven I 'm not like that fellow, with all his craft!' And you are right too, my dear friend; if the devil were to walk the world now, he 'd be bored beyond endurance, seeing nothing but the old vices played over again and again. And so it is with all of us who have a spice of his nature; we'd give anything to see one new trick on the cards. Good night, and pleasant dreams to you!\u201d<|Q|> And with a sigh that had in its cadence something almost painful, he gave his two fingers to the honest grasp of the other, and withdrew.\n\n\u201cYou're a better fellow than you think yourself, or wish any one else to believe you,\u201d |1|muttered|1| Harcourt, as he puffed his cigar; and he ruminated over this reflection till it was bedtime."}, {"idx": 9430, "candidates": {"0": "grumbled"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "\"How interesting, how very interesting,\" stammered Mr. Ransom, feeling his newly won convictions shaken again. \"Quite remarkable the whole story. And so is this inscription,\" he added, pointing to the words Georgian Toritti, etc. \"Did the woman have two husbands, and was the Alfred Hazen, whose death at sea is commemorated here, the son of Toritti or of Hazen?\"\n\n\"Of Toritti,\" |0|grumbled|0| the man, evidently displeased at the question. <|Q|>\"A black-browed devil who it won't do to talk about here. Mrs. Hazen was only a slip of a gal when she married him, and as he didn't live but a couple o' months folks have sort o' forgiven her and forgotten him. To us Mrs. Hazen was always Mrs. Hazen; and Alf -- well, he was just Alf Hazen too; a lad with too much good in him to perish in them murderous waters a thousand miles from home.\"<|Q|>\n\nSo they still believed Hazen dead! No intimation of his return had as yet reached Sitford. This was what Ransom wanted to know. But there was still much to learn. Should he venture an additional question? No, that would show more than a stranger's interest in a topic so purely local. Better leave well enough alone and quit the spot before he committed himself."}, {"idx": 6399, "candidates": {"0": "laughing"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"Ah! love, you know I was not willingly absent!\" was the quick answer.\n\n\"No -- no -- no -- but it was hardly the more endurable for that,\" said the lady, with a smile. <|Q|>\"Oh! the anxiety of the last three days and nights! Dearest, I do believe I have not slept three hours during the whole of those three days and nights!\"<|Q|>\n\n\"And I, dear, have slept not one!\" was the |0|laughing|0| rejoinder."}, {"idx": 110469, "candidates": {"0": "paused"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"Dreams,\" she continued, seeing her advantage, \"are wishes, either suppressed or expressed. Sometimes the dream is frank and shows an expressed wish. Other times it shows a suppressed wish, or a wish which in its fulfilment in the dream is disguised or distorted.\n\n<|Q|>\"You are the cause of your wife's dreams. She feels in them anxiety. And, according to the modern psychologists who have studied dreams carefully and scientifically, fear and anxiety represent love repressed or suppressed.\"<|Q|>\n\nShe |0|paused|0| to emphasize the point, glad to note that he was following her."}, {"idx": 107811, "candidates": {"0": "assured"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"I dare say she would consent, -- if it were all serene. Why should she not? Do not try her too hard, Lord Silverbridge. You say you love her.\"\n\n<|Q|>\"I do, indeed.\"<|Q|>\n\n\"Then think of the position in which you are placing her. You are struggling to win her heart.\" Silverbridge as he heard this |0|assured|0| himself that there was no need for any further struggling in that direction. \"Perhaps you have won it. Yet she may feel that she cannot become your wife. She may well say to herself that this which is offered to her is so great, that she does not know how to refuse it; and may yet have to say, at the same time, that she cannot accept it without disgrace. You would not put one that you love into such a position?\""}, {"idx": 36278, "candidates": {"0": "cheer", "1": "exclaimed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"yes\"}", "context": "\" cried the sufferer, writhing in agony. \"Shall I get over it, do you think, sir?\" looking up in the commander's face with an inquiring glance, such as a child might cast at its mother.\n\n\"I hope you may,\" answered Alick; \"but |0|cheer|0| up -- many have been as bad as you are, and have recovered; hold on bravely.\" The man seemed to grow calmer; again, however, there came over him a fearful paroxysm of pain. <|Q|>\"Don't leave me, sir, don't leave me!\"<|Q|> he |1|exclaimed|1|, as soon as he could speak. Alick, who was about to go on to another man, again held his hands, pouring some cordial down his mouth, which the doctor handed him. He was soon quiet, but it was the quiet of death; and the commander passed on to others who required his aid.\n\nThus he and the other officers went from hammock to hammock, endeavouring to soothe the pain of those to whom their services could be of any avail. The dead man was lifted out and quickly sewn up in his blanket, with a shot at his feet, to be launched overboard. Three were committed to the deep at the same time."}, {"idx": 28066, "candidates": {"0": "laughed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "He did not finish the surge of gratitude that was in his heart. Speech seemed trivial, even futile. But she understood. He was not thanking God for that moment, but for a lifetime of something that at last had come to him. This, it seemed to him, was the end, the end of a world as he had known it, the beginning of a new. He stepped back, and his hands trembled. For something to do he set up the overturned table, and Mary Standish watched him with a quiet, satisfied wonder. She loved him, and she had come into his arms. She had given him her lips to kiss. And he |0|laughed|0| softly as he came to her side again, and looked over the tundra where Rossland had gone.\n\n<|Q|>\u201cHow long before you can prepare for the journey?\u201d<|Q|> he asked.\n\n\u201cYou mean \u2014 \u201d"}, {"idx": 105826, "candidates": {"0": "exclaimed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201cAnd since I cannot do it, Jane, it must have been unreal.\u201d\n\n<|Q|>\u201cBut, sir, when I said so to myself on rising this morning, and when I looked round the room to gather courage and comfort from the cheerful aspect of each familiar object in full daylight, there \u2014 on the carpet \u2014 I saw what gave the distinct lie to my hypothesis, \u2014 the veil, torn from top to bottom in two halves!\u201d<|Q|>\n\nI felt Mr. Rochester start and shudder; he hastily flung his arms round me. \u201cThank God!\u201d he |0|exclaimed|0|, \u201cthat if anything malignant did come near you last night, it was only the veil that was harmed. Oh, to think what might have happened!\u201d"}, {"idx": 40559, "candidates": {"0": "shouted", "1": "laughed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "When General Im Kyong-up was young he lived in the town of Tallai. In those days he loved the chase, and constantly practised riding and hunting. Once he went off on an excursion to track the deer in Wol-lak Mountains. He carried only a sword, and made the chase on foot. In his pursuit of the animal he went as far as Tai-paik Mountain. There night overtook him, and the way was hidden in the darkness. There were yawning chasms and great horns and cliffs on all sides. While he was in a state of perplexity he met a woodman, and asked him where the road was and how he ought to go. The woodman directed him to a cliff opposite, \"where,\" said he, \"there is a house.\" Im heard this and crossed over to the farther ridge. On approaching more nearly he found a great tiled mansion standing alone without a single house about it. He went in by the main gateway, but found all quiet and dark and no one in sight. It was a vacant house, evidently deserted. After travelling all day in the hills Im was full of fears and creepy feelings. So he viewed the place with mistrust, fearing that there might be hill goblins in it or tree devils, but a moment later some one opened the room door and |0|shouted|0| out, \"Do you sleep here? Have you had something to eat?\"\n\nIm looked and discovered that it was the same person that had directed him on his way. He said in reply, <|Q|>\"I have not eaten anything and am hungry.\"<|Q|> So the man opened the wall box and brought him out wine and meat. He, being exceedingly hungry, ate all. Then they sat down to talk together, and after a little the woodman got up, opened the box once more, and took from it a great sword. Im asked, \"What is this you have; do you intend to kill me?\"\n\nThe woodman |1|laughed|1| and said, \"No, no, but to-night there is something on hand worth the seeing. Will you come with me and not be afraid?\""}, {"idx": 21090, "candidates": {"0": "laugh", "1": "laugh"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "If Judith and Jacqueline had never loved Jack Throckmorton before, they would have loved him then. The sweetness, tenderness, and gentleness of the boy came out every day. There had always been an affinity between Jacqueline and him, and, as other ties weakened, this seemed to grow stronger. He never tired or bored or agitated her. Regularly he came twice a day, with flowers, or game, or with a new book. Dr. Wortley encouraged Jacqueline to see him, as it was plainly through her mind that her body must be cured. So every day Mrs. Temple or Judith would take Jack up to Jacqueline's room, and he would sit down by the bed and tell her his droll stories. Sometimes the ghost of a |0|laugh|0| would come from Jacqueline, and when, at parting, Jack would stand over her, holding her hand and saying, <|Q|>\"Miss Jacky, I swear this is not to be stood for another day! -- I'm coming over to-morrow to take you to drive!\"<|Q|> Jacqueline would almost |1|laugh|1| aloud. Jack never mentioned Throckmorton to her, though; but one day, when he had brought her a great bunch of violets and narcissus, which had actually brought a little color to Jacqueline's cheeks, and had induced her to eat a piece of bread about as big as a silver dollar, he turned to Judith as he got out of the room: \"The major is coming,\" he said, with an altogether different look in his handsome, boyish face."}, {"idx": 30630, "candidates": {"0": "exclaimed", "1": "laugh"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "It should have been still quite light, but it was already dusk, for the clouds hung heavy. The rain had ceased, but a heavy wind came up which tore the delicate petals of the blossoms from the fruit trees and strewed them like snow on the ground beneath. The Count, who was the head of one of the richest and most aristocratic families in Hungary, threw off his heavy fur coat and hastened up the stairs at the top of which his old friend and confidant, the venerable pastor, usually came to meet him. To-day it was only the local magistrate who stood there, bowing deeply.\n\n<|Q|>\u201cThis is incredible, incredible!\u201d<|Q|> |0|exclaimed|0| the Count.\n\n\u201cIt is, indeed, sir,\u201d said the man, leading the magnate through the dining-room into the pastor\u2019s study, where, as far as could be seen, the murder had been committed. They were joined by the district judge, who had remained behind to give an order sending a carriage to the nearest railway station. The judge, too, was serious and deeply shocked, for he also had greatly admired and revered the old pastor. The stately rectory had been the scene of many a jovial gathering when the lord of the manor had made it a centre for a day\u2019s hunting with his friends. The bearers of some of the proudest names in all Hungary had gathered in the high-arched rooms to |1|laugh|1| with the venerable pastor and to sample the excellent wines in his cellar. These wines, which the gentlemen themselves would send in as presents to the master of the rectory, would be carefully preserved for their own enjoyment. Not a landed proprietor for many leagues around but knew and loved the old pastor, who had now so strangely disappeared under such terrifying circumstances."}, {"idx": 47875, "candidates": {"0": "exclaimed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "As Peterkin talked, he was carrying his daughter into the hall, hitting her lame foot against the door, and eliciting from her a cry of pain.\n\n<|Q|>\"Oh, father: Oh-h! -- it does hurt so. Put me somewhere quick, and take off my boot.\"<|Q|>\n\nShe was dripping wet, and little puddles of water trailed along the carpet as Peterkin carried her into the sitting room, where he was about to lay her down upon the delicate satin couch, when his wife's housewifely instincts were roused, and she |0|exclaimed|0|:"}, {"idx": 113520, "candidates": {"0": "murmured"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "\u201cSuch are my reasons for not liking to marry Mademoiselle Danglars. Have you ever noticed how much a thing is heightened in value when we obtain possession of it? The diamond which glittered in the window at Marl\u00e9\u2019s or Fossin\u2019s shines with more splendor when it is our own; but if we are compelled to acknowledge the superiority of another, and still must retain the one that is inferior, do you not know what we have to endure?\u201d\n\n<|Q|>\u201cWorldling,\u201d<|Q|> |0|murmured|0| the count.\n\n\u201cThus I shall rejoice when Mademoiselle Eug\u00e9nie perceives I am but a pitiful atom, with scarcely as many hundred thousand francs as she has millions.\u201d Monte Cristo smiled. \u201cOne plan occurred to me,\u201d continued Albert; \u201cFranz likes all that is eccentric; I tried to make him fall in love with Mademoiselle Danglars; but in spite of four letters, written in the most alluring style, he invariably answered: \u2018My eccentricity may be great, but it will not make me break my promise.\u2019\u201d"}, {"idx": 28576, "candidates": {"0": "begged", "1": "argue"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "When the family had retired after supper, and left us to talk on our particular affairs, I found the same indecision, the same loathness to bring our courtship to a period, as formerly. Her previous excuses were renewed, and her wishes to have a union still longer delayed were zealously urged. She could not bear the idea of confinement to the cares of a married life at present, and |0|begged|0| me to defer all solicitation on that subject to some future day. I found my temper rise, and told her plainly that I was not thus to be trifled with; that if her regard for me was sincere, if she really intended to form a connection with me, she could not thus protract the time, try my patience, and prefer every other pleasure to the rational interchange of affection, to the calm delights of domestic life. But in vain did I |1|argue|1| against her false notions of happiness, in vain did I represent the dangerous system of conduct which she now pursued, and urge her to accept, before it was too late, the hand and heart which were devoted to her service. That, she said, she purposed ere long to do, and hoped amply to reward my faithful love; but she could not fix the time this evening. She must consider a little further, and likewise consult her mother. \"Is it not Major Sanford whom you wish to consult, madam?\" said I. She blushed, and gave me no answer. \"Tell me, Eliza,\" I continued, \"tell me frankly, if he has not supplanted me in your affections -- if he be not the cause of my being thus evasively, thus cruelly, treated.\" <|Q|>\"Major Sanford, sir,\"<|Q|> replied she, \"has done you no harm. He is a particular friend of mine, a polite gentleman, and an agreeable neighbor, and therefore I treat him with civility; but he is not so much interested in my concerns as to alter my disposition towards any other person.\" \"Why,\" said I, \"do you talk of friendship with a man of his character? Between his society and mine there is a great contrast. Such opposite pursuits and inclinations cannot be equally pleasing to the same taste. It is, therefore, necessary that you renounce the one to enjoy the other; I will give you time to decide which. I am going to a friend's house to spend the night, and will call on you to-morrow, if agreeable, and converse with you further upon the matter"}, {"idx": 87314, "candidates": {"0": "exclaiming", "1": "argued", "2": "sob"}, "pred": "{'0': 'no', '1': 'no', '2': 'no'}", "context": "This declaration completely changed the whole posture of affairs. Mrs. Kenwigs threw herself upon the old gentleman\u2019s neck, bitterly reproaching herself for her late harshness, and |0|exclaiming|0|, if she had suffered, what must his sufferings have been! Mr. Kenwigs grasped his hand, and vowed eternal friendship and remorse. Mrs. Kenwigs was horror-stricken to think that she should ever have nourished in her bosom such a snake, adder, viper, serpent, and base crocodile as Henrietta Petowker. Mr. Kenwigs |1|argued|1| that she must have been bad indeed not to have improved by so long a contemplation of Mrs. Kenwigs\u2019s virtue. Mrs. Kenwigs remembered that Mr. Kenwigs had often said that he was not quite satisfied of the propriety of Miss Petowker\u2019s conduct, and wondered how it was that she could have been blinded by such a wretch. Mr. Kenwigs remembered that he had had his suspicions, but did not wonder why Mrs. Kenwigs had not had hers, as she was all chastity, purity, and truth, and Henrietta all baseness, falsehood, and deceit. And Mr. and Mrs. Kenwigs both said, with strong feelings and tears of sympathy, that everything happened for the best; and conjured the good collector not to give way to unavailing grief, but to seek consolation in the society of those affectionate relations whose arms and hearts were ever open to him.\n\n<|Q|>\u2018Out of affection and regard for you, Susan and Kenwigs,\u2019<|Q|> said Mr Lillyvick, \u2018and not out of revenge and spite against her, for she is below it, I shall, tomorrow morning, settle upon your children, and make payable to the survivors of them when they come of age of marry, that money that I once meant to leave \u2018em in my will. The deed shall be executed tomorrow, and Mr. Noggs shall be one of the witnesses. He hears me promise this, and he shall see it done.\u2019\n\nOverpowered by this noble and generous offer, Mr. Kenwigs, Mrs. Kenwigs, and Miss Morleena Kenwigs, all began to |2|sob|2| together; and the noise of their sobbing, communicating itself to the next room, where the children lay a-bed, and causing them to cry too, Mr. Kenwigs rushed wildly in, and bringing them out in his arms, by two and two, tumbled them down in their nightcaps and gowns at the feet of Mr. Lillyvick, and called upon them to thank and bless him."}, {"idx": 112821, "candidates": {"0": "laughed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u2018\u2018 What nonsense!\u201d I cried; \u201cthese are a timid girl\u2019s fears. It would be folly to pine patiently for years in poverty, when we can achieve wealth at a stroke. The sooner we are rich, the sooner we shall be united, and to postpone that moment would be to make me almost doubt your love. Let us try this man\u2019s power. There will be nothing lost if he fails.\u201d \n\n\u201cDo with me as you will, Henry,\u201d she answered, <|Q|>\u201cI will obey you in all things; only I cannot help feeling a vague terror that seems to forebode misfortune.\u201d<|Q|> \n\nI |0|laughed|0| and bade her be of good cheer, and rang for lights in order that the experiment might be commenced at once. We three were alone. Mrs. Deane was on a "}, {"idx": 64381, "candidates": {"0": "groaned", "1": "whispered"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "The roar of the river rose weird and mournful and incessant, with few breaks, and these were marked by strange ripping and splashing sounds made as the bulges of water broke on the surface. Twenty feet out the boat floated, turning a little as it drifted. It seemed loath to leave. It held on the shore eddy. Hungrily, spitefully the little, heavy waves lapped it. Bostil watched it with dilating eyes. There! the current caught one end and the water rose in a hollow splash over the corner. An invisible hand, like a mighty giant's, seemed to swing the boat out. It had been dark; now it was opaque, now shadowy, now dim. How swift this cursed river! Was there any way in which Bostil could recover his boat? The river answered him with hollow, deep mockery. Despair seized upon him. And the vague shape of the boat, spectral and instinct with meaning, passed from Bostil's strained gaze.\n\n<|Q|>\"So help me God, I've done it!\"<|Q|> he |0|groaned|0|, hoarsely. And he staggered back and sat down. Mind and heart and soul were suddenly and exquisitely acute to the shame of his act. Remorse seized upon his vitals. He suffered physical agony, as if a wolf gnawed him internally.\n\n\"To hell with Creech an' his hosses, but where do I come in as a man?\" he |1|whispered|1|. And he sat there, arms tight around his knees, locked both mentally and physically into inaction."}, {"idx": 118148, "candidates": {"0": "murmured"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201cThe gates of Heaven are open to all who truly believe,\u201d |0|murmured|0| the pious devotee in his bosom.\n\n<|Q|>\u201cThis resignation is maddening! But we are men, and will make a struggle for our lives! how now, my brave and spirited friend, shall we yet mount and push across the flames, or shall we stand here, and see those we most love perish in this frightful manner, without an effort?\u201d<|Q|>\n\n\u201cI am for a swarming time, and a flight before the hive is too hot to hold us,\u201d said the bee-hunter, to whom it will be at once seen that Middleton addressed himself. \u201cCome, old trapper, you must acknowledge this is but a slow way of getting out of danger. If we tarry here much longer, it will be in the fashion that the bees lie around the straw after the hive has been smoked for its honey. You may hear the fire begin to roar already, and I know by experience, that when the flame once gets fairly into the prairie grass, it is no sloth that can outrun it.\u201d"}, {"idx": 30379, "candidates": {"0": "paused", "1": "weeping"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"Oh, Will, Will!\"\n\n<|Q|>\"You know what I mean. I'd go anywhere. Where is she to find a home till, -- till she is married?\"<|Q|> He had |0|paused|0| at the word; but was determined not to shrink from it, and bolted it out in a loud, sharp tone, so that both he and she recognised all the meaning of the word, -- all that was conveyed in the idea. He hated himself when he endeavoured to conceal from his own mind any of the misery that was coming upon him. He loved her. He could not get over it. The passion was on him, -- like a palsy, for the shaking off of which no sufficient physical energy was left to him. It clung to him in his goings out and comings in with a painful, wearing tenacity, against which he would now and again struggle, swearing that it should be so no longer, -- but against which he always struggled in vain. It was with him when he was hunting. He was ever thinking of it when the bird rose before his gun. As he watched the furrow, as his men and horses would drive it straight and deep through the ground, he was thinking of her, -- and not of the straightness and depth of the furrow, as had been his wont in former years. Then he would turn away his face, and stand alone in his field, blinded by the salt drops in his eyes, |1|weeping|1| at his own weakness. And when he was quite alone, he would stamp his foot on the ground, and throw abroad his arms, and curse himself. What Nessus's shirt was this that had fallen upon him, and unmanned him from the sole of his foot to the top of his head? He went through the occupations of the week. He hunted, and shot, and gave his orders, and paid his men their wages; -- but he did it all with a palsy of love upon him as he did it. He wanted her, and he could not overcome the want. He could not bear to confess to himself that the thing by which he had set so much store could never belong to him. His sister understood it all, and sometimes he was almost angry with her because of her understanding it. She sympathised with him in all his moods, and sometimes he would shake away her sympathy as though it scalded him."}, {"idx": 83405, "candidates": {"0": "sighed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "\"Of course, we must remember this. When you have a suspicion that certain things are so, every little circumstance and every lightest remark seem to confirm you in that belief. Often these things have absolutely no bearing on it whatever, but you think they have, simply because you fear that they have or want them to have. So we mustn't be misled by chance remarks. I will admit, however, that these particular ones seem singularly to bear us out in our conjectures.\"\n\n\"Well, do let's get some of these things settled to-morrow,\" |0|sighed|0| Marcia. <|Q|>\"I'm losing so much sleep over it that I'm beginning to feel like an owl. I just worry and worry all night long it seems to me. Let's ask Miss Benedict about the name of Treadwell when we go there, if we can possibly manage to see her.\"<|Q|>\n\n\"I'm sorry to disappoint you about that,\" interrupted the captain. \"But I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to remain at home to-morrow. I'm due downtown on some errands that will take me to a number of places. And at the same time, I'm expecting an important business message over the telephone. I shall have to ask you to be here without fail to take the message for me. I can't trust Eliza to get it right. So you'll have to put off your visit for another day. But don't be too much disappointed, for while I'm away I shall be making inquiries as to how we must go about tracing the name of Treadwell in England. That will be something accomplished"}, {"idx": 7875, "candidates": {"0": "implored"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "The tall lad carrying her satchels walked silently at Jane's side. He well knew the conflict that was raging in the heart of the girl he had always loved, in spite of her ever-increasing selfishness, with a tenderness akin to that which he had given his mother, but he said no word to try to help. This was a moment when Jane must stand alone.\n\nThey were ascending the wide front steps when the door of the house was flung open and a little girl of ten leaped out with a glad cry. \"Oh, Janey, my wonderful big sister Janey.\" Two arms were held out, and in another moment, as the older girl well knew, she would be in one of those crushing embraces that the younger children called \"bear hugs.\" She frowned slightly. \"Don't, Julie!\" she |0|implored|0|. <|Q|>\"My suit has just been pressed. Won't you ever grow up, and greet people in a more dignified way?\"<|Q|>\n\nThe glad expression on the freckled face of the little girl, who could not be called really pretty, changed instantly. Her lips quivered and her eyes filled with tears. \"Don't be a silly,\" Jane said rebukingly, as she stooped and kissed the child indifferently on the forehead."}, {"idx": 110796, "candidates": {"0": "whispered", "1": "shouted"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "I looked through the gate and saw that it was indeed the general, who, having either seen us or been attracted by our voices, was hurrying down towards us. As he advanced he would stop from time to time and peer at us through the dark shadow thrown by the trees, as if he were irresolute whether to come on or no.\n\n\u201cHe's reconnoitering!\u201d |0|whispered|0| my companion with a hoarse chuckle. <|Q|>\u201cHe's afraid -- and I know what he's afraid of. He won't be caught in a trap if he can help it, the old 'un. He's about as fly as they make 'em, you bet!\u201d<|Q|>\n\nThen suddenly standing on his tip-toes and waving his hand through the bars of the gate, he |1|shouted|1| at the top of his voice:"}, {"idx": 76833, "candidates": {"0": "whispering", "1": "complained"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"yes\"}", "context": "But even in his arms, with the warm sunlight on his radiant face, with his lips to her ear, |0|whispering|0| the divine absurdities of passion, in the back of her obstinate little head was the thought that, while she had given him her first embrace, he had held other women in his arms. It made her passive, prevented her complete surrender.\n\nAnd after a time he resented it. \u201cYou are only letting me love you,\u201d he |1|complained|1|. <|Q|>\u201cI don't believe you care, after all.\u201d<|Q|>\n\nHe freed her, took a step back from her."}, {"idx": 106706, "candidates": {"0": "assured"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "Dixon donned his lead-cloth hood and tunic again and set to work. Ten minutes later he turned to Ruth with a slender foot-long cylinder of lead in his hand.\n\n<|Q|>\"Ruth, will this fit your Uncle's projectile?\"<|Q|> he asked.\n\n\"Easily,\" she |0|assured|0| him. \"But isn't it frightfully dangerous to carry in that form?\""}, {"idx": 48593, "candidates": {"0": "admitted"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "Pollyanna gave her head a dubious shake.\n\n\"Well, I'm afraid maybe I don't know ALL of 'em,\" she |0|admitted|0|. <|Q|>\"Are they all -- in books?\"<|Q|>\n\nThe boy nodded."}, {"idx": 81166, "candidates": {"0": "whispered"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "Never was promised bride more welcome to a household than bright Belinda Lawford; and as for the young lady herself, I must confess that she was almost childishly happy, and that it was all that she could do to prevent her light step from falling into a dance as she floated hither and thither through the house at Dangerfield, -- a fresh young Hebe in crisp muslin robes; a gentle goddess, with smiles upon her face and happiness in her heart.\n\n\"I loved you from the first, Edward,\" she |0|whispered|0| one day to her lover. <|Q|>\"I knew that you were good, and brave, and noble; and I loved you because of that.\"<|Q|>\n\nAnd a little for the golden glimmer in his clustering curls; and a little for his handsome profile, his flashing eyes, and that distinguished air peculiar to the defenders of their country; more especially peculiar, perhaps, to those who ride on horseback when they sally forth to defend her. Once a soldier for ever a soldier, I think. You may rob the noble warrior of his uniform, if you will; but the je ne sais quoi, the nameless air of the \"long-sword, saddle, bridle"}, {"idx": 45726, "candidates": {"0": "exclaimed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "\"I am not used to be childish; \u2014 and yet, I don't know how it is, but I don't seem ashamed of dropping a tear now. I know I'm a harsh, brutal man: but what has made me so? God, who can read all hearts, has it written down in his book that I was once possessed of the same kind feelings as other people. However \u2014 it's no use talking: what I am I must remain until the end.\"\n\n\"Believe me,\" |0|exclaimed|0| Richard Markham, who was ever sensibly alive to the existence of generous feelings in others, \u2014 <|Q|>\"believe me,\"<|Q|> he cried, grasping Smithers' hand, \"society lost a good man when you undertook your present avocation.\"\n\n\"What, sir!\" ejaculated Smithers, unfeignedly surprised; \"do you shake hands with the Public Executioner?\""}, {"idx": 51485, "candidates": {"0": "sing"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "Indeed she liked him more and more. There was a touch of motherliness in her feelings towards him. But his upbringing and his associations had been, she diagnosed, \"awful.\" At New Romney she glanced but little; that was remote. But in her inventory -- she went over him as one might go over a newly taken house, with impartial thoroughness -- she discovered more proximate influences, surprising intimations of nocturnal \"sing-songs\" -- she pictured it as almost shocking that Kipps should |0|sing|0| to the banjo -- much low-grade wisdom treasured from a person called Buggins -- <|Q|>\"Who is Buggins?\"<|Q|> said Helen -- vague figures of indisputable vulgarity, Pierce and Carshot, and more particularly, a very terrible social phenomenon, Chitterlow.\n\nChitterlow blazed upon them with unheralded oppressive brilliance the first time they were abroad together."}, {"idx": 40801, "candidates": {"0": "laughed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"fate seems to lay traps for her. But now, Charles, remember our present compact, and keep it better than you did the last. Do you suppose that I did not see, while, under all your affectation of cool confidence and implicit trust, that your angry spirit was accusing me of every kind of coquetry, and grilling itself, like a London woman's head in a lace bonnet going out in August, in an open carriage, to a picnic at Shooter's Hill?\" Charles Marston |0|laughed|0|.\n\n\"Well,\" he said, <|Q|>\"it is true. I was uneasy, dearest Anne, but not with any doubt or mistrust, as you suppose, for of your love and truth I had no doubt; but it was impossible for me to divine such a cause as has now appeared for your conduct, and you yourself must confess that nothing else but such a cause could justify it.\"<|Q|>\n\n\"You might have been quite sure,\" replied Lady Anne, \"that I had a sufficient cause. But I will own the trial was hard,\" she added, in a lighter tone; for her first words had been spoken gravely; \"and therefore I forgive you. I took a sly, quiet look at your face, when the secret came out; and, I must say, I never saw a more remarkable look of foolish astonishment. However, perhaps I may surprise you still more before I have done to-day; and then I suppose it will be all over, and I shall sink down into a tame, quiet, every-day sort of wife, who, if ever she ventures upon one of her old vagaries, will be scolded heartily and will endure it with due submission.\""}, {"idx": 103208, "candidates": {"0": "admit"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "Then, on a warm September morning in 1918, he stretched himself to sleep in the coolest and shadiest corner of the veranda. And, while he slept, his great heart very quietly stopped beating. He had no pain, no illness, none of the distressing features of extreme age. He had lived out a full span of sixteen years -- years rich in life and happiness and love.\n\nSurely, there was nothing in such a death to warrant the silly grief that was ours, nor the heartsick gloom that overhung The Place! It was wholly illogical, not to say maudlin. I |0|admit|0| that without argument. The cleric-author of <|Q|>\"The Mansion Yard\"<|Q|> must have known the same miserable sense of loss, I think, when he wrote:\n\n\"Stretched on the hearthrug in a deep content, Fond of the fire as I. Oh, there was something with the old dog went I had not thought could die!\""}, {"idx": 106701, "candidates": {"0": "argued"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "On the other hand, his holdings were reckoned as worth millions, and there were men so sanguine that they held the man a fool who coppered[6] any bet Daylight laid. Behind his magnificent free-handedness and careless disregard for money were hard, practical judgment, imagination and vision, and the daring of the big gambler. He foresaw what with his own eyes he had never seen, and he played to win much or lose all.\n\n<|Q|>\"There's too much gold here in Bonanza to be just a pocket,\"<|Q|> he |0|argued|0|. \"It's sure come from a mother-lode somewhere, and other creeks will show up. You-all keep your eyes on Indian River. The creeks that drain that side the Klondike watershed are just as likely to have gold as the creeks that drain this side.\"\n\nAnd he backed this opinion to the extent of grub-staking half a dozen parties of prospectors across the big divide into the Indian River region. Other men, themselves failing to stake on lucky creeks, he put to work on his Bonanza claims. And he paid them well -- sixteen dollars a day for an eight-hour shift, and he ran three shifts. He had grub to start them on, and when, on the last water, the Bella arrived loaded with provisions, he traded a warehouse site to Jack Kearns for a supply of grub that lasted all his men through the winter of 1896. And that winter, when famine pinched, and flour sold for two dollars a pound, he kept three shifts of men at work on all four of the Bonanza claims. Other mine-owners paid fifteen dollars a day to their men; but he had been the first to put men to work, and from the first he paid them a full ounce a day. One result was that his were picked men, and they more than earned their higher pay."}, {"idx": 99285, "candidates": {"0": "moaned"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "Brewster refused to accept a share of the glory of Peggy's rescue, pushing Conroy forward as the real hero. But the sailor insisted that he could not have succeeded without help, -- that he was completely exhausted when Monty came to the rescue. Peggy found it hard to thank him gently while her heart was so dangerously near the riot point, and her words of gratitude sounded pitifully weak and insufficient.\n\n\"It would have been the same had anybody else gone to her rescue,\" he mused dejectedly. \"She cares for me with the devotion of a sister and that's all. Peggy, Peggy,\" he |0|moaned|0|, <|Q|>\"if you could only love me, I'd -- I'd -- oh, well, there's no use thinking about it! She will love some one else, of course, and -- and be happy, too. If she'd appear only one-tenth as grateful to me as to Conroy I'd be satisfied. He had the luck to be first, that's all, but God knows I tried to do it.\"<|Q|>\n\nMrs. Dan DeMille was keen enough to see how the land lay, and she at once tried to set matters straight. She was far too clever to push her campaign ruthlessly, but laid her foundations and then built cunningly and securely with the most substantial material that came to hand from day to day. Her subjects were taking themselves too deeply to heart to appreciate interference on the part of an outsider, and Mrs. Dan was wise in the whims of love."}, {"idx": 19294, "candidates": {"0": "announced"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "She lived an engrossed useful life, and seemed as cool and simple as an apple. But secretly she was creeping among fears, longing, and guilt. She knew what it was, but she dared not name it. She hated even the sound of the word \u201csex.\u201d When she dreamed of being a woman of the harem, with great white warm limbs, she awoke to shudder, defenseless in the dusk of her room. She prayed to Jesus, always to the Son of God, offering him the terrible power of her adoration, addressing him as the eternal lover, growing passionate, exalted, large, as she contemplated his splendor. Thus she mounted to endurance and surcease.\n\nBy day, rattling about in many activities, she was able to ridicule her blazing nights of darkness. With spurious cheerfulness she |0|announced|0| everywhere, \u201cI guess I'm a born spinster,\u201d and \u201cNo one will ever marry a plain schoolma'am like me,\u201d and <|Q|>\u201cYou men, great big noisy bothersome creatures, we women wouldn't have you round the place, dirtying up nice clean rooms, if it wasn't that you have to be petted and guided. We just ought to say 'Scat!' to all of you!\u201d<|Q|>\n\nBut when a man held her close at a dance, even when \u201cProfessor\u201d George Edwin Mott patted her hand paternally as they considered the naughtinesses of Cy Bogart, she quivered, and reflected how superior she was to have kept her virginity."}, {"idx": 112908, "candidates": {"0": "cheered"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "Without another word he stepped ahead, and began to make the trail for the dogs, whilst Stane took the gee-pole to guide the sledge. B\u00e8nard bent to his task and made a rattling pace, travelling in a bee-line for their quarry, since the lake's surface offered absolutely no obstructions. Stane at the gee-pole wondered how long he could keep it up, and from time to time glanced at the sled ahead, which, seen from the same level, now was half-hidden in a mist of snow. He noted with satisfaction that they seemed to be gaining on it; and rejoiced to think that, as Jean B\u00e8nard's dogs were in fine mettle and absolutely fresh, they could not be long before they overhauled it. Presently the trapper stopped to rest, and Stane himself moved ahead.\n\n\"I will take a turn at trail-breaking,\" he said, <|Q|>\"and do you run behind, Jean.\"<|Q|>\n\nIt was a different matter going ahead of the dogs on the unbroken snow. In a little time his muscles began to ache intolerably. It seemed as if the ligaments of the groin were being pulled by pincers, and the very bone of the leg that he had broken, seemed to burn with pain. But again, as on the previous night, he set his teeth, and defied the dreaded mal de roquette. New hope sustained him; before him, within sight as he believed, was the girl, whom, in the months of their wilderness sojourn, he had learned to love, and who on the previous night (how long ago it seemed!) in the face of imminent death, had given herself to him unreservedly. His blood quickened at the remembrance. He ignored the pangs he was enduring. The sweat, induced by the violent exertion froze on eyebrows and eyelashes, but he ignored the discomfort, and pressed on, the snow swirling past his ankles in a miniature storm. Twice or thrice he lifted his bent head and measured the distance between him and the quarry ahead. It was, he thought nearer, and |0|cheered|0|, he bent his body again to the nerve-racking toil."}, {"idx": 29944, "candidates": {"0": "pronounced"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "To-day Philip was a living monument to the transforming power of love. Very clean, very much combed and brushed and collared and tied, with a large handkerchief, soaked in my cologne, held prominently in one hand, and an expression as decorous and pious as any ever achieved by Geordie Yonts, he sat in church the very picture of elegance, the real direction of his thoughts being indicated by an occasional ardent glance across the aisle, where Dilsey, fairer, more saint-like than ever, kept serious eyes on the preacher. As I looked, I asked myself, Can this be the boy who a few short months ago declined to perform the most rudimentary rites of the toilet, gloried in tatters, declared that <|Q|>\"when a man steps in the door, looks flies up the chimley\"<|Q|>, denominated \"polite\" a \"lick-spittle\", asserted that he would rather take off his hat to a cow than a woman, and |0|pronounced|0| the story of his chivalric namesake a \"slander\"?\n\n[Illustration: \"He sat in church the very picture of elegance, the real direction of his thoughts indicated by an occasional ardent glance across the aisle.\"]"}, {"idx": 76845, "candidates": {"0": "admitted"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "\u201cYou should have bought it when the opportunity offered,\u201d she reminded him. \u201cYou could have had it then for fifty thousand dollars less than you would have paid for it a year ago -- and I'm sure that should have been sufficient indication to you that the game you and the Cardigans had been playing so long had come to an end. He was beaten and acknowledged it, and I think you might have been a little more generous to your fallen enemy, Uncle Seth.\u201d\n\n<|Q|>\u201cI dare say,\u201d<|Q|> he |0|admitted|0| lightly. \u201cHowever, I wasn't, and now I'm going to be punished for it, my dear: so don't roast me any more. By the way, that speckled hot-air fellow Ogilvy, who is promoting the Northern California Oregon Railroad, is back in town again. Somehow, I haven't much confidence in that fellow. I think I'll wire the San Francisco office to look him up in Dun's and Bradstreet's. Folks up this way are taking too much for granted on that fellow's mere say -- so, but I for one intend to delve for facts -- particularly with regard to the N.C.O. bank-roll and Ogilvy's associates. I'd sleep a whole lot more soundly to-night if I knew the answer to two very important questions.\u201d"}, {"idx": 53582, "candidates": {"0": "exclaimed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "\"You are not a foolish girl who takes delight in trifling with the sincere attachment of an honest man who adores her: \u2014 you are not a heartless coquette, looking upon her admirer as a slave whom she is justified to torture. No \u2014 no: you yourself possess a generous soul \u2014 you have no sympathy with the frivolous portion of your sex \u2014 you are as strong-minded, as sincere as you are beautiful. Tell me, then, Georgiana \u2014 what signifies this strange contradiction? You love me \u2014 you would be happy and proud to become mine; \u2014 and yet \u2014 my God! \u2014 and yet you the next moment annihilate every hope in my breast!\"\n\n\"Alas! how unpardonable must my conduct seem \u2014 how inexplicable my behaviour!\" |0|exclaimed|0| Lady Hatfield, in a tone of despair. <|Q|>\"I am not indeed a heartless coquette \u2014 nor a weak frivolous girl: \u2014 in the sincerity of my heart do I speak, Arthur; \u2014 and if you be generous you will forgive me \u2014 but I never can be thine!\"<|Q|>\n\n\"Then you love another!\" cried the Earl, impatiently."}, {"idx": 43002, "candidates": {"0": "hesitated"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "Again Lady Monk sat silent. She had a plan in her head, -- a plan that might, as she thought, give to her nephew one more chance. But she |0|hesitated|0| before she could bring herself to explain it in detail. At first she had lent a little aid to this desired abduction of Mr. Palliser's wife, but in lending it had said no word upon the subject. During the last season she had succeeded in getting Lady Glencora to her house in London, and had taken care that Burgo should meet her there. Then a hint or two had been spoken, and Lady Glencora had been asked to Monkshade. Lady Glencora, as we know, did not go to Monkshade, and Lady Monk had then been baffled. But she did not therefore give up the game. Having now thought of it so much, she began to speak of it more boldly, and had procured money for her nephew that he might thereby be enabled to carry off the woman. But though this had been well understood between them, though words had been spoken which were sufficiently explicit, the plan had not been openly discussed. Lady Monk had known nothing of the mode in which Lady Glencora was to have been carried off after her party, nor whither she was to have been taken. But now, -- now she must arrange it herself, and have a scheme of her own, or else the thing must fail absolutely. Even she was almost reluctant to speak out plainly to her nephew on such a subject. What if he should be false to her, and tell of her? But when a woman has made such schemes, nothing distresses her so sadly as their failure. She would risk all rather than that Mr. Palliser should keep his wife.\n\n\"I will try and help you,\" she said at last, speaking hoarsely, almost in a whisper, <|Q|>\"if you have courage to make an attempt yourself.\"<|Q|>\n\n\"Courage!\" said he \"What is it you think I am afraid of? Mr. Palliser? I'd fight him, -- or all the Pallisers, one after another, if it would do any good.\""}, {"idx": 47472, "candidates": {"0": "assure"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"Well, I hope my airship will do as well. But something seems to be wrong with it, and I have hopes that you can help me discover what it is, I know your father, and I have heard much of your ability. That is why I requested your aid.\"\n\n\"I'm afraid I've been much overrated,\" spoke Tom, modestly, <|Q|>\"but I'll do all I can for you. I must now leave my monoplane in a safe place, however.\"<|Q|>\n\n\"I'll attend to that,\" Mr. Fenwick hastened to |0|assure|0| him. \"Leave it to me.\""}, {"idx": 84327, "candidates": {"0": "sighed", "1": "sighed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"How comes it, then, that you speak French?\"\n\n<|Q|>\"Because I have always loved your beautiful France, madame.\"<|Q|>\n\n\"France -- ah! la pauvre France!\" She |0|sighed|0|, drew a wisp of what had been a cornet of snuff from her pocket, opened it, dipped in a tentative finger and thumb and, finding it empty, gazed at it with disappointment, |1|sighed|1| again and, with the methodical hopelessness of age, folded it up into the neatest of little squares and thrust it back in her pocket. Then she went on with her vegetables."}, {"idx": 100057, "candidates": {"0": "grunted", "1": "growling", "2": "screamed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"no\", \"2\": \"no\"}", "context": "Go-lat |0|grunted|0| again and continued to move away.\n\n<|Q|>\"Zu-tag will go alone and get him,\"<|Q|> cried the young ape, \"if Go-lat is afraid of the Gomangani.\"\n\nThe king ape wheeled in anger, |1|growling|1| loudly and beating upon his breast. \"Go-lat is not afraid,\" he |2|screamed|2|, \"but he will not go, for the white ape is not of his tribe. Go yourself and take the Tarmangani's she with you if you wish so much to save the white ape.\""}, {"idx": 70771, "candidates": {"0": "whispered", "1": "murmured", "2": "announced"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"yes\", \"2\": \"no\"}", "context": "He |0|whispered|0|: \u201cIs it this? Is this possible? I\u2019ll put a marvel to you. That your cousin has always hoped. That from the very first moment we met, she hoped, far down in her mind, that we should be like this \u2014 of course, very far down. That she fought us on the surface, and yet she hoped. I can\u2019t explain her any other way. Can you? Look how she kept me alive in you all the summer; how she gave you no peace; how month after month she became more eccentric and unreliable. The sight of us haunted her \u2014 or she couldn\u2019t have described us as she did to her friend. There are details \u2014 it burnt. I read the book afterwards. She is not frozen, Lucy, she is not withered up all through. She tore us apart twice, but in the rectory that evening she was given one more chance to make us happy. We can never make friends with her or thank her. But I do believe that, far down in her heart, far below all speech and behaviour, she is glad.\u201d\n\n<|Q|>\u201cIt is impossible,\u201d<|Q|> |1|murmured|1| Lucy, and then, remembering the experiences of her own heart, she said: \u201cNo \u2014 it is just possible.\u201d\n\nYouth enwrapped them; the song of Phaethon |2|announced|2| passion requited, love attained. But they were conscious of a love more mysterious than this. The song died away; they heard the river, bearing down the snows of winter into the Mediterranean"}, {"idx": 11687, "candidates": {"0": "sigh", "1": "laughed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "In the meantime, Lucian stayed in grimy, smoky London, and worked hard at his profession. He was beginning to be known, and in time actually received a brief or two, with which he did his best in court. Still, he was far from being the successful pleader he hoped to be, for law, of all professions, is one which demands time and industry for the attainment of any degree of excellence. It is rarely that a young lawyer can go to sleep and wake to find himself famous; he must crawl rather than run. With diligence and punctuality, and observance of every chance, in time the wished-for goal is reached, although that goal, in nine cases out of ten, is a very moderate distance off. Lucian did not |0|sigh|0| for a judgeship, or for a seat on the Woolsack; he was content to be a barrister with a good practice, and perhaps a Q.C.-ship in prospect. However, during the year of Diana's mourning he did so well that he felt justified in asking her to marry him when she returned. Diana, on her side, saw no obstacle to this course, so she consented.\n\n\"If you are not rich, my dear, I am,\" she said, when Lucian alleged his poverty as the only bar to their union, <|Q|>\"and as money gives me no pleasure without you, I do not care to stay in Berwin Manor in lonely spinsterhood. I shall marry you whenever you choose.\"<|Q|>\n\nAnd Lucian, taking advantage of this gracious permission, did choose to be married, and that speedily; so within two years after the final closing of the Vrain case they became man and wife. At the time they were seated in the garden, at the hour of sunset, they had only lately returned from their honeymoon, and were now talking over past experiences. Miss Priscilla, who had been left in charge of the Manor during their absence, had welcomed them back with much joy, as she looked upon the match as one of her own making. Now she had gone inside, on the understanding that two are company and three are none, and the young couple were left alone. Hand in hand, after the foolish fashion of lovers, they sat under a leafy oak tree, and the sunlight glowed redly on their happy faces. After a short silence Lucian looked at the face of his wife and |1|laughed|1|."}, {"idx": 31691, "candidates": {"0": "assured"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201cPossibly, though I\u2019ve not seen him for months. It\u2019s simply the way it strikes me too. It\u2019s an old wife\u2019s tale. Gravener made some reference to the legal aspect, but such an absurdly loose arrangement has no legal aspect.\u201d\n\n<|Q|>\u201cRuth doesn\u2019t insist on that,\u201d<|Q|> said Mrs. Mulville; \u201cand it\u2019s, for her, exactly this technical weakness that constitutes the force of the moral obligation.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you repeating her words?\u201d I enquired. I forget what else Adelaide said, but she said she was magnificent. I thought of George Gravener confronted with such magnificence as that, and I asked what could have made two such persons ever suppose they understood each other. Mrs. Mulville |0|assured|0| me the girl loved him as such a woman could love and that she suffered as such a woman could suffer. Nevertheless she wanted to see me. At this I sprang up with a groan."}, {"idx": 87658, "candidates": {"0": "admitted"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "When he had gone we completed our preparations for defence, strengthening the waggons and the thorns beneath with earth and stones. Then at sunset we ate and drank as heartily as we could under the circumstances, and when we had done, Hans Botha, as head of the party, offered up prayer to God for our preservation. It was a touching sight to see the burly Dutchman, his hat off, his broad face lit up by the last rays of the setting sun, praying aloud in homely, simple language to Him who alone could save us from the spears of a cruel foe. I remember that the last sentence of his prayer was, <|Q|>\u201cAlmighty, if we must be killed, save the women and children and my little girl Tota from the accursed Zulus, and do not let us be tortured.\u201d<|Q|>\n\nI echoed the request very earnestly in my own heart, that I know, for in common with the others I was dreadfully afraid, and it must be |0|admitted|0| not without reason."}, {"idx": 46150, "candidates": {"0": "breathe"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "It was solved for us by Mr. Gryce's reappearance in the room an hour or so later. From the moment the light fell upon his kindly features I knew that I might |0|breathe|0| again freely. It was not the face he showed in the house of a criminal, nor did his bow contain any of the false deference with which he sometimes tries to hide his secret doubt or contempt.\n\n<|Q|>\"I have come to trouble you for the last time, ladies. We have made a double search through this house and through the stables, and feel perfectly justified in saying that our duty henceforth will lead us elsewhere. The secrets we have surprised are your own, and if possible shall remain so. Your brother's propensity for vivisection and the return and death of your mother bear so little on the real question which interests this community that we may be able to prevent their spread as gossip through the town. That this may be done conscientiously, however, I ought to know something more of the latter circumstance. If Miss Butterworth will then be good enough to grant me a few minutes' conference with these ladies, I may be able to satisfy myself to such an extent as to let this matter rest where it is.\"<|Q|>\n\nI rose with right good will. A mountain weight had been lifted from me, proof positive that I had really come to love these girls."}, {"idx": 97322, "candidates": {"0": "exclaimed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "Through the foresters and retainers who had at Cnut's shout of joy crowded up, Cuthbert made his way, shaking hands right and left with the men, among whom he was greatly loved, for they regarded him as being in a great degree the cause of their having been freed from outlawry, and restored to civil life again. The earl was really affected. As Cuthbert rode up he held out both arms, and as his page alighted he embraced him as a father.\n\n<|Q|>\"My dear Cuthbert!\"<|Q|> he |0|exclaimed|0|. \"What anxiety have we not suffered. Had you been my own son, I could not have felt more your loss. We did not doubt for an instant that you had fallen into the hands of some of the retainers of that villain Count; and from all we could learn, and from the absence of any dead body by the side of that of Cnut, I imagined that you must have been carried off. It was clear that your chance of life, if you fell into the hands of that evil page, or his equally vile master, was small indeed. The very day that Cnut was brought in, I visited the French camp, and accused him of having been the cause of your disappearance and Cnut's wounds. He affected the greatest astonishment at the charge. He had not, as he said, been out of the camp for two days. My accusation was unfounded and malicious, and I should answer this as well as the previous outrage, when the vow of the Crusaders to keep peace among themselves was at an end. Of course I had no means of proving what I said, or I would have gone direct to the king and charged him with the outrage. As it was I gained nothing by my pains. He has accompanied this French division to Genoa; but when we meet at Sicily, where the two armies are to rendezvous, I will bring the matter before the king, as the fact that his page was certainly concerned in it must be taken as showing that he was the instigator.\""}, {"idx": 48549, "candidates": {"0": "laugh"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "There is wisdom greater than the wisdom of reason. Love proceeds not out of the dry-as-dust way of the mind. Love is of the heart, and is beyond all reason, and logic, and philosophy. Trust your own heart, my daughter. And if your heart bids you have faith in your lover, then |0|laugh|0| at the mind and its cold wisdom, and obey your heart, and have faith in your lover. \u2014 Martha.\n\n<|Q|>\u201cBut that whole message is the dictate of your own heart,\u201d<|Q|> Chris cried. \u201cDon\u2019t you see, Lute? The thought is your very own, and your subconscious mind has expressed it there on the paper.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut there is one thing I don\u2019t see,\u201d she objected."}, {"idx": 97794, "candidates": {"0": "paused", "1": "assured"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"Very well, and very happy, only a little uneasy that they hear from you so seldom. By the by, I mean to lecture you a little upon their account myself. -- But, my dear Frankenstein,\" continued he, stopping short, and gazing full in my face, \"I did not before remark how very ill you appear; so thin and pale; you look as if you had been watching for several nights.\"\n\n<|Q|>\"You have guessed right; I have lately been so deeply engaged in one occupation, that I have not allowed myself sufficient rest, as you see: but I hope, I sincerely hope, that all these employments are now at an end, and that I am at length free.\"<|Q|>\n\nI trembled excessively; I could not endure to think of, and far less to allude to, the occurrences of the preceding night. I walked with a quick pace, and we soon arrived at my college. I then reflected, and the thought made me shiver, that the creature whom I had left in my apartment might still be there, alive, and walking about. I dreaded to behold this monster; but I feared still more that Henry should see him. Entreating him, therefore, to remain a few minutes at the bottom of the stairs, I darted up towards my own room. My hand was already on the lock of the door before I recollected myself. I then |0|paused|0|; and a cold shivering came over me. I threw the door forcibly open, as children are accustomed to do when they expect a spectre to stand in waiting for them on the other side; but nothing appeared. I stepped fearfully in: the apartment was empty; and my bed-room was also freed from its hideous guest. I could hardly believe that so great a good fortune could have befallen me; but when I became |1|assured|1| that my enemy had indeed fled, I clapped my hands for joy, and ran down to Clerval."}, {"idx": 73790, "candidates": {"0": "laughing"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"What would you have had me do?\" asked Margaret, with such voice as she had.\n\n\"I believe I had not thought of that,\" said Philip, half |0|laughing|0|. <|Q|>\"I only felt that you ought to have trusted me -- that you must have known that I loved neither Miss Bruce, nor any one but you; and that I could not be engaged to any one while I loved you. -- Tell me at once, Margaret -- did I not deserve this much from you?\"<|Q|>\n\n\"You did,\" said Margaret, distinctly. \"But there is another way of viewing the whole, which does not seem to have occurred to you. I have been to blame, perhaps; but if you had thought of the other possibility -- \""}, {"idx": 69461, "candidates": {"0": "whispered", "1": "whisper", "2": "panted"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\", \"1\": \"no\", \"2\": \"no\"}", "context": "Dragging Nina behind him he ducked between the legs of an Indian who was rushing toward him, bowled him over, and dodged behind a tree. He knew that he had not an instant to lose. Seizing Nina by the hand he dragged her behind the tree, then |0|whispered|0| rapidly:\n\n<|Q|>\"They're after us! They may get me, but Kit is just outside the edge of the thicket over that way,\"<|Q|> he pointed; \"try to get to her and go on to Bellevue. It can't be very far now. We'll stick together if we can, but if you see me fall don't wait, make a dash for Kit -- -- \" a great whoop from the teepees above interrupted his broken |1|whisper|1|, and pushing Nina before him he rushed on through the thicket. \"Through there -- through there,\" he |2|panted|2|, \"wiggle your way through the brush!\" He leaned forward to push the undergrowth aside for her when a bullet whizzed through the air and his arm dropped to his side, while a stinging, burning pain shot through his chest."}, {"idx": 98030, "candidates": {"0": "hesitate"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201cThe soft kind.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe'll be back soon with a box of candy,\u201d explained Miss Winch, \u201cand he will get that sloshy, creamy sort, though I keep telling him I like the other. Well, one thing's certain. Fillmore's got it up his nose. He's beginning to hop about and sing in the sunlight. It's going to be hard work to get that boy down to earth again.\u201d Miss Winch heaved a gentle sigh. <|Q|>\u201cI should like him to have enough left in the old stocking to pay the first year's rent when the wedding bells ring out.\u201d<|Q|> She bit meditatively on her chewing-gum. \u201cNot,\u201d she said, \u201cthat it matters. I'd be just as happy in two rooms and a kitchenette, so long as Fillmore was there. You've no notion how dippy I am about him.\u201d Her freckled face glowed. \u201cHe grows on me like a darned drug. And the funny thing is that I keep right on admiring him though I can see all the while that he's the most perfect chump. He is a chump, you know. That's what I love about him. That and the way his ears wiggle when he gets excited. Chumps always make the best husbands. When you marry, Sally, grab a chump. Tap his forehead first, and if it rings solid, don't |0|hesitate|0|. All the unhappy marriages come from the husband having brains. What good are brains to a man? They only unsettle him"}, {"idx": 6650, "candidates": {"0": "shouted"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "\u201cP. S. \u2014 Stub sends love and regards.\u201d \n\n<|Q|>\u201cWhere did you get that note?\u201d<|Q|> |0|shouted|0| Ed, pounc\u00ac ing onto Limping Bear. \n\n\u201cL T m big tall cowboy, him give um me,\u201d the Injun answered. "}, {"idx": 22819, "candidates": {"0": "shouted"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "'Yes, I shall,' cried the other violently -- his name was Dumesnil -- 'I'll fling it at their heads. That's all our school can do -- make a scandal.'\n\n<|Q|>'Well, that has even been known to make money,'<|Q|> said the other, fingering his watch-chain with a disagreeable little smile.\n\n'Money!' |0|shouted|0| Dumesnil, and swinging round to his own table again he poured out hot denunciations of the money-grabbing reptiles of to-day who shelter themselves behind the sacred name of art. Meanwhile the man at whom it was all levelled sipped his coffee quietly and took no notice."}, {"idx": 56560, "candidates": {"0": "assure"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "The prospect of the Netherfield ball was extremely agreeable to every female of the family. Mrs. Bennet chose to consider it as given in compliment to her eldest daughter, and was particularly flattered by receiving the invitation from Mr. Bingley himself, instead of a ceremonious card. Jane pictured to herself a happy evening in the society of her two friends, and the attentions of their brother; and Elizabeth thought with pleasure of dancing a great deal with Mr. Wickham, and of seeing a confirmation of everything in Mr. Darcy\u2019s look and behaviour. The happiness anticipated by Catherine and Lydia depended less on any single event, or any particular person; for though they each, like Elizabeth, meant to dance half the evening with Mr. Wickham, he was by no means the only partner who could satisfy them, and a ball was, at any rate, a ball. And even Mary could |0|assure|0| her family that she had no disinclination for it.\n\n\u201cWhile I can have my mornings to myself,\u201d said she, <|Q|>\u201cit is enough. I think it is no sacrifice to join occasionally in evening engagements. Society has claims on us all; and I profess myself one of those who consider intervals of recreation and amusement as desirable for everybody.\u201d<|Q|>\n\nElizabeth\u2019s spirits were so high on the occasion, that though she did not often speak unnecessarily to Mr. Collins, she could not help asking him whether he intended to accept Mr. Bingley\u2019s invitation, and if he did, whether he would think it proper to join in the evening\u2019s amusement; and she was rather surprised to find that he entertained no scruple whatever on that head, and was very far from dreading a rebuke, either from the Archbishop or Lady Catherine de Bourgh, by venturing to dance."}, {"idx": 40268, "candidates": {"0": "whispered"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "\"Why do you cry so, Fleda? I like to think of it, and to talk of it, now that I know you won't do so any more. I knew the whole truth, and it went to the bottom of my heart; but I could do nothing but love you -- I did that! -- Don't cry so, Fleda! -- you ought not. -- You have been the sunshine of the house. My spirit never was so strong as yours; I should have been borne to the ground, I know, in all these years, if it had not been for you; and mother -- you have been her life.\"\n\n<|Q|>\"You have been tired too,\"<|Q|> Fleda |0|whispered|0|.\n\n\"Yes at the saw-mill. And then you would come up there through the sun to look at me, and your smile would make me forget everything sorrowful for the rest of the day -- except that I couldn't help you.\""}, {"idx": 45516, "candidates": {"0": "murmured"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "The Duchessa could not get over her astonishment; she would not have known him had she seen him go by in the street; she discovered him to be, what as a matter of fact he was, one of the best-looking men in Italy; his physiognomy in particular was charming. She had sent him to Naples a devil-may-care young rough-rider; the horsewhip he invariably carried at that time had seemed an inherent part of his person: now he had the noblest and most measured bearing before strangers, while in private conversation she found that he had retained all the ardour of his boyhood. This was a diamond that had lost nothing by being polished. Fabrizio had not been in the room an hour when Conte Mosca appeared; he arrived a little too soon. The young man spoke to him with so apt a choice of terms of the Cross of Parma that had been conferred on his governor, and expressed his lively gratitude for certain other benefits of which he did not venture to speak in so open a fashion, with so perfect a restraint, that at the first glance the Minister formed an excellent impression of him. \"This nephew,\" he |0|murmured|0| to the Duchessa, \"is made to adorn all the exalted posts to which you will raise him in due course.\" So far, all had gone wonderfully well, but when the Minister, thoroughly satisfied with Fabrizio, and paying attention so far only to his actions and gestures, turned to the Duchessa, he noticed a curious look in her eyes. <|Q|>\"This young man is making a strange impression here,\"<|Q|> he said to himself. This reflexion was bitter; the Conte had reached the fifties, a cruel word of which perhaps only a man desperately in love can feel the full force. He was a thoroughly good man, thoroughly deserving to be loved, apart from his severities as a Minister. But in his eyes that cruel word fifties threw a dark cloud over his whole life and might well have made him cruel on his own account. In the five years since he had persuaded the Duchessa to settle at Parma, she had often aroused his jealousy, especially at first, but never had she given him any real grounds for complaint. He believed indeed, and rightly, that it was with the object of making herself more certain of his heart that the Duchessa had had recourse to those apparent bestowals of her favour upon various young beaux of the court. He was sure, for instance, that she had rejected the offers of the Prince, who, indeed, on that occasion, had made a significant utterance."}, {"idx": 17799, "candidates": {"0": "whispered"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "But like most children, she soon stopped crying, and in a short time she was running up and down the rooms as when she had played on the sands with the sea-children. And King Pluto, sad and lonely, watched her and wished that he too was a child, and when Proserpina turned and saw the great King standing alone in his splendid hall, so grand and so lonely, with no one to love him, she felt sorry for him. She ran back and for the first time in all those six months she put her small hand in his. \"I love you a little,\" she |0|whispered|0|, looking up into his face.\n\n<|Q|>\"Do you really, dear child?\"<|Q|> cried Pluto, bending down his dark face to kiss her. But Proserpina was a little afraid, he was so dark and severe-looking, and she shrank back.\n\n\"Well,\" said Pluto, \"it is just what I deserve after keeping you a prisoner all these months, and starving you besides. Are you not dreadfully hungry, is there nothing I can get you to eat?\""}, {"idx": 87481, "candidates": {"0": "moaned"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "Whether because the light from the oil-less lamp was dim, or because the two occupants of the house were absorbed in thinking of their approaching separation, Nagendra's entrance was unseen. Standing in the doorway, he heard the last sorrowful words that issued from the mouth of the old man. These two, the old man and the young girl, were friendless in this densely-peopled world. Once they had had wealth, relatives, men and maid servants -- abundance of all kinds; but by the fickleness of fortune, one after another, all had gone. The mother of the family, seeing the faces of her son and daughter daily fading like the dew-drenched lotus from the pinch of poverty, had early sunk upon the bed of death. All the other stars had been extinguished with that moon. The support of the race, the jewel of his mother's eye, the hope of his father's age, even he had been laid on the pyre before his father's eyes. No one remained save the old man and this enchanting girl. They dwelt in this ruined, deserted house in the midst of the forest. Each was to the other the only helper.\n\nKunda Nandini was of marriageable age; but she was the staff of her father's blindness, his only bond to this world. While he lived he could give her up to no one. <|Q|>\"There are but a few more days; if I give away Kunda where can I abide?\"<|Q|> were the old man's thoughts when the question of giving her in marriage arose in his mind. Had it never occurred to him to ask himself what would become of Kunda when his summons came? Now the messenger of death stood at his bedside; he was about to leave the world; where would Kunda be on the morrow?\n\nThe deep, indescribable suffering of this thought expressed itself in every failing breath. Tears streamed from his eyes, ever restlessly closing and opening, while at his head sat the thirteen-year-old girl, like a stone figure, firmly looking into her father's face, covered with the shadows of death. Forgetting herself, forgetting to think where she would go on the morrow, she gazed only on the face of her departing parent. Gradually the old man's utterance became obscure, the breath left the throat, the eyes lost their light, the suffering soul obtained release from pain. In that dark place, by that glimmering lamp, the solitary Kunda Nandini, drawing her father's dead body on to her lap, remained sitting. The night was extremely dark; even now rain-drops fell, the leaves of the trees rustled, the wind |0|moaned|0|, the windows of the ruined house flapped noisily. In the house, the fitful light of the lamp flickered momentarily on the face of the dead, and again left it in darkness. The lamp had long been exhausted of oil; now, after two or three flashes, it went out. Then Nagendra, with noiseless steps, went forth from the doorway."}, {"idx": 50028, "candidates": {"0": "laughed", "1": "wept", "2": "admitted"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"no\", \"2\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201d said Anne, looking around the blue room wistfully \u2014 her pretty blue room where she had spent three such happy years. She had knelt at its window to pray and had bent from it to watch the sunset behind the pines. She had heard the autumn raindrops beating against it and had welcomed the spring robins at its sill. She wondered if old dreams could haunt rooms \u2014 if, when one left forever the room where she had joyed and suffered and |0|laughed|0| and |1|wept|1|, something of her, intangible and invisible, yet nonetheless real, did not remain behind like a voiceful memory.\n\n\u201cI think,\u201d said Phil, <|Q|>\u201cthat a room where one dreams and grieves and rejoices and lives becomes inseparably connected with those processes and acquires a personality of its own. I am sure if I came into this room fifty years from now it would say \u2018Anne, Anne\u2019 to me. What nice times we\u2019ve had here, honey! What chats and jokes and good chummy jamborees! Oh, dear me! I\u2019m to marry Jo in June and I know I will be rapturously happy. But just now I feel as if I wanted this lovely Redmond life to go on forever.\u201d<|Q|>\n\n\u201cI\u2019m unreasonable enough just now to wish that, too,\u201d |2|admitted|2| Anne. \u201cNo matter what deeper joys may come to us later on we\u2019ll never again have just the same delightful, irresponsible existence we\u2019ve had here. It\u2019s over forever, Phil.\u201d"}, {"idx": 48932, "candidates": {"0": "wept"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"Although the discourse of my fortunes be the renewing of my sorrows, and the rubbing of the scar will open a fresh wound, yet that I may not prove ingrateful to so courteous a gentleman, I will rather sit down and sigh out my estate, than give any offence by smothering my grief with silence. Know therefore, sir, that I am of Bordeaux, and the son and heir of Sir John of Bordeaux, a man for his virtues and valor so famous, that I cannot think but the fame of his honors hath reached farther than the knowledge of his personage. The infortunate son of so fortunate a knight am I; my name, Saladyne; who succeeding my father in possessions, but not in qualities, having two brethren committed by my father at his death to my charge, with such golden principles of brotherly concord, as might have pierced like the Sirens' melody into any human ear. But I, with Ulysses, became deaf against his philosophical harmony, and made more value of profit than of virtue, esteeming gold sufficient honor, and wealth the fittest title for a gentleman's dignity. I set my middle brother to the university to be a scholar, counting it enough if he might pore on a book while I fed upon his revenues; and for the youngest, which was my father's joy, young Rosader\" -- And with that, naming of Rosader, Saladyne sate him down and |0|wept|0|.\n\n\"Nay, forward man,\" quoth the forester, <|Q|>\"tears are the unfittest salve that any man can apply for to cure sorrows, and therefore cease from such feminine follies, as should drop out of a woman's eye to deceive, not out of a gentleman's look to discover his thoughts, and forward with thy discourse.\"<|Q|>\n\n\"O sir,\" quoth Saladyne, \"this Rosader that wrings tears from mine eyes, and blood from my heart, was like my father in exterior personage and in inward qualities; for in the prime of his years he aimed all his acts at honor, and coveted rather to die than to brook any injury unworthy a gentleman's credit. I, whom envy had made blind, and covetousness masked with the veil of self-love, seeing the palm tree grow straight, thought to suppress it being a twig; but nature will have her course, the cedar will be tall, the diamond bright, the carbuncle glistering, and virtue will shine though it be never so much obscured. For I kept Rosader as a slave, and used him as one of my servile hinds, until age grew on, and a secret insight of my abuse entered into his mind; insomuch, that he could not brook it, but coveted to have what his father left him, and to live of himself. To be short, sir, I repined at his fortunes, and he counterchecked me, not with ability but valor, until at last, by my friends and aid of such as followed gold more than right or virtue, I banished him from Bordeaux, and he, poor gentleman, lives no man knows where, in some distressed discontent. The gods, not able to suffer such impiety unrevenged, so wrought, that the king picked a causeless quarrel against me in hope to have my lands, and so hath exiled me out of France for ever. Thus, thus, sir, am I the most miserable of all men, as having a blemish in my thoughts for the wrongs I proffered Rosader, and a touch in my state to be thrown from my proper possessions by injustice. Passionate thus with many griefs, in penance of my former follies I go thus pilgrim-like to seek out my brother, that I may reconcile myself to him in all submission, and afterward wend to the Holy Land, to end my years in as many virtues as I have spent my youth in wicked vanities.\""}, {"idx": 81263, "candidates": {"0": "laughed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201cAh! c\u2019est comme tous les Anglais,\u201d but gave me her hand very kindly.\n\n\u201cIt is the privilege of my country, Mademoiselle,\u201d said I; <|Q|>\u201cand, remember, I shall always claim it.\u201d<|Q|>\n\nShe |0|laughed|0| a little, quite good-naturedly, and with the sort of tranquillity obvious in all she did -- a tranquillity which soothed and suited me singularly, at least I thought so that evening. Brussels seemed a very pleasant place to me when I got out again into the street, and it appeared as if some cheerful, eventful, upward-tending career were even then opening to me, on that selfsame mild, still April night. So impressionable a being is man, or at least such a man as I was in those days."}, {"idx": 34974, "candidates": {"0": "bragged"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "In spite of all his little troubles Captain De Baron was a very popular man. There was a theory abroad about him that he always behaved like a gentleman, and that his troubles were misfortunes rather than faults. Ladies always liked him, and his society was agreeable to men because he was neither selfish nor loud. He talked only a little, but still enough not to be thought dull. He never |0|bragged|0| or bullied or bounced. He didn't want to shoot more deer or catch more salmon than another man. He never cut a fellow down in the hunting-field. He never borrowed money, but would sometimes lend it when a reason was given. He was probably as ignorant as an owl of anything really pertaining to literature, but he did not display his ignorance. He was regarded by all who knew him as one of the most fortunate of men. He regarded himself as being very far from blessed, knowing that there must come a speedy end to the things which he only half enjoyed, and feeling partly ashamed of himself in that he had found for himself no better part.\n\n\"Jack,\" said Mrs. Houghton, <|Q|>\"I can't blow you up for being late, because Mr. Houghton has not yet condescended to shew himself. Let me introduce you to Lady George Germain.\"<|Q|> Then he smiled in his peculiar way, and Mary thought his face the most beautiful she had ever seen. \"Lord George Germain, -- who allows me to call him my cousin, though he isn't as near as you are. My sister-in-law, you know.\" Jack shook hands with the old lady in his most cordial manner. \"I think you have seen Mr. Mildmay before, and Miss Mildmay.\" Mary could not but look at the greeting between the two, and she saw that Miss Mildmay almost turned up her nose at him. She was quite sure that Mrs. Houghton had been wrong about the love. There had surely only been a pretence of love. But Mrs. Houghton had been right, and Mary had not yet learned to read correctly the signs which men and women hang out."}, {"idx": 43249, "candidates": {"0": "hesitate"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201d she protested. I declared she had done everything in growing to education under my eyes, in reflecting again upon all the processes that had made myself, so that instead of abstractions and blue-books and bills and devices, I had realised the world of mankind as a crowd needing before all things fine women and men. We'd spoilt ourselves in learning that, but anyhow we had our lesson. Before her I was in a nineteenth-century darkness, dealing with the nation as if it were a crowd of selfish men, forgetful of women and children and that shy wild thing in the hearts of men, love, which must be drawn upon as it has never been drawn upon before, if the State is to live. I saw now how it is possible to bring the loose factors of a great realm together, to create a mind of literature and thought in it, and the expression of a purpose to make it self-conscious and fine. I had it all clear before me, so that at a score of points I could presently begin. The BLUE WEEKLY was a centre of force. Already we had given Imperialism a criticism, and leavened half the press from our columns. Our movement consolidated and spread. We should presently come into power. Everything moved towards our hands. We should be able to get at the schools, the services, the universities, the church; enormously increase the endowment of research, and organise what was sorely wanted, a criticism of research; contrive a closer contact between the press and creative intellectual life; foster literature, clarify, strengthen the public consciousness, develop social organisation and a sense of the State. Men were coming to us every day, brilliant young peers like Lord Dentonhill, writers like Carnot and Cresswell. It filled me with pride to win such men. <|Q|>\u201cWe stand for so much more than we seem to stand for,\u201d<|Q|> I said. I opened my heart to her, so freely that I |0|hesitate|0| to open my heart even to the reader, telling of projects and ambitions I cherished, of my consciousness of great powers and widening opportunities....\n\nIsabel watched me as I talked."}, {"idx": 72732, "candidates": {"0": "murmured"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "'Oh -- wonderful!' |0|murmured|0| Lucy, opening her eyes and gazing into his.\n\nHer face broke into a charming smile. <|Q|>'You have the dearest eyes,'<|Q|> she said, putting up her finger and gently tracing his eyebrows with it.\n\nWemyss's eyes, full at that moment of love and pride, were certainly dear eyes, but a noise at the other end of the room made Lucy jump so in his arms, gave her apparently such a fright, that when he turned his head to see who it was daring to interrupt them, daring to startle his little girl like that, and beheld the parlourmaid, his eyes weren't dear at all but very angry."}, {"idx": 86211, "candidates": {"0": "whispered"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "She was looking down, white-faced, with a hardening of the lips as if she were in bodily pain. \"You don't understand,\" she |0|whispered|0|. \"It can't be -- it can never be. There is something that makes it impossible, now and always. I can't tell you more than that.\"\n\n<|Q|>\"But, Ruth, dearest,\"<|Q|> I pleaded despairingly, \"may it not become possible some day? Can it not be made possible? I can wait, but I can't give you up. Is there no chance whatever that this obstacle may be removed?\"\n\n\"Very little, I fear. Hardly any. No, Paul; it is hopeless, and I can't bear to talk about it. Let me go now. Let us say good-bye here and see one another no more for a while. Perhaps we may be friends again some day -- when you have forgiven me.\""}, {"idx": 6760, "candidates": {"0": "exclaimed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201cIt does,\u201d |0|exclaimed|0| Mitchell eagerly. \u201cHere we have a man, without an identifying mark on his person or his clothes, poisoned sometime between two and three Tuesday morning and his body not found until twelve hours later, and then located in a room which an hour previous had not contained his body,\u201d Mitchell rumpled his hair, \u201cand no one in the house but Miss Evelyn Preston who arrived that morning. It\u2019s a very pretty problem.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere was some one else in the house beside Miss Preston,\u201d replied Palmer warmly. <|Q|>\u201cThe man who carried the dead body into the library. It\u2019s a great pity the house wasn\u2019t searched instantly from top to bottom.\u201d<|Q|>\n\n\u201cTrue,\u201d agreed Maynard. \u201cBut none of us, the coroner and Dr. Hayden included, realized there might be a murderer concealed on the premises until after Penfield\u2019s statement that the man had been dead about twelve hours, and Miss Preston\u2019s immediate declaration that some one had rung the library bell just before she came upstairs from the kitchen and found the dead man sitting there. Our search then, of course, proved fruitless; the man had made good his escape.\u201d"}, {"idx": 59808, "candidates": {"0": "muttered", "1": "paused"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "Then Nelson discovered an amazing fact. About the great scaly neck, thick as a boy's waist, was fastened a ponderous collar, set with short, sharp spikes.\n\nNelson gasped. \"What in hell!\" he cried. <|Q|>\"This damn thing's somebody's property!\"<|Q|> His mind, staggered at the thought of dealing with a race that could and would domesticate such a hideous monster. \"Well, it's no use standing here,\" he |0|muttered|0|, wiping the sweat from his eyes. \"This isn't getting poor Alden away from those devils.\"\n\nThud! thud! In the act of turning he |1|paused|1|, listened once more. Then he discovered to his amazement that the heart of the apparently dead reptile was still beating strongly. He could even see the yellow skin of its belly rise and fall. The effect was grotesque, uncanny."}, {"idx": 106878, "candidates": {"0": "snapped", "1": "laughing"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"yes\"}", "context": "The transom of Laura's door shone brightly; but the knob, turning uselessly in Cora's hand, proved the door itself not so hospitable. There was a brief rustling within the room; the bolt |0|snapped|0|, and Laura opened the door.\n\n\"Why, Laura,\" said Cora, observing her sister with transient curiosity, \"you haven't undressed. What have you been doing? Something's the matter with you. I know what it is,\" she added, |1|laughing|1|, as she seated herself on the edge of the old black-walnut bed. <|Q|>\"You're in love with Wade Trumble!\"<|Q|>\n\n\"He's a strong man,\" observed Laura. \"A remarkable throat.\""}, {"idx": 120584, "candidates": {"0": "exclaimed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "Marguerite\u2019s voice trembled when saying this as if she were going to cry, although her eyes were tearless. They did not now feel the irresistible necessity for tears. Weeping had become something superfluous, like many other luxuries of peaceful days. Her eyes had seen so much in so few days! . . .\n\n<|Q|>\u201cHow you love him!\u201d<|Q|> |0|exclaimed|0| Julio.\n\nFearing that they might be overheard and in order to keep him at a distance, she had been speaking as though to a friend. But her lover\u2019s sadness broke down her reserve."}, {"idx": 26031, "candidates": {"0": "admit"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "Another newcomer, Margaret Evans, is a Christian Science Reader. She is beautiful, in this day, and though she does not speak of her mirror in 2018, as does the headlong Jewish boy, I know she will always be beautiful in body and soul. She has fathomed the holy grace and immortal gladness of her teaching, and I can well believe she is immortal in this place, under our oak and apple trees.\n\nStill another is a Springfield Negress who is a preacher among her own people. She has not a single Caucasian contour to her face or figure, yet all the world must |0|admit|0| that Daisy Pearl Johnson is beautiful as she is divinely young. She is <|Q|>\u201cblack but comely,\u201d<|Q|> according to the scripture. And she is eager in all the matters of the mind and spirit.\n\nAnother prophet, Nathaniel Davidson, gathers several denominations under one temporary roof, and preaches to them about hell. He was once a Y. M. C. A. physical director, and he ranges in attributes from Caliban to higher things, and looks much like Douglas Fairbanks and William. A. Sunday. He receives an invitation to join the Prognosticator\u2019s Club."}, {"idx": 85277, "candidates": {"0": "breathed", "1": "confiding"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "In the middle of the summer Princess Mary received an unexpected letter from Prince Andrew in Switzerland in which he gave her strange and surprising news. He informed her of his engagement to Nat\u00e1sha Rost\u00f3va. The whole letter |0|breathed|0| loving rapture for his betrothed and tender and |1|confiding|1| affection for his sister. He wrote that he had never loved as he did now and that only now did he understand and know what life was. He asked his sister to forgive him for not having told her of his resolve when he had last visited Bald Hills, though he had spoken of it to his father. He had not done so for fear Princess Mary should ask her father to give his consent, irritating him and having to bear the brunt of his displeasure without attaining her object. \u201cBesides,\u201d he wrote, <|Q|>\u201cthe matter was not then so definitely settled as it is now. My father then insisted on a delay of a year and now already six months, half of that period, have passed, and my resolution is firmer than ever. If the doctors did not keep me here at the spas I should be back in Russia, but as it is I have to postpone my return for three months. You know me and my relations with Father. I want nothing from him. I have been and always shall be independent; but to go against his will and arouse his anger, now that he may perhaps remain with us such a short time, would destroy half my happiness. I am now writing to him about the same question, and beg you to choose a good moment to hand him the letter and to let me know how he looks at the whole matter and whether there is hope that he may consent to reduce the term by four months.\u201d<|Q|>\n\nAfter long hesitations, doubts, and prayers, Princess Mary gave the letter to her father. The next day the old prince said to her quietly:"}, {"idx": 47992, "candidates": {"0": "laughing"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "Captain Broughton was almost as much surprised as delighted by the warmth of the acknowledgment made by the eager-hearted passionate girl whom he now held within his arms. She had said it now; the words had been spoken; and there was nothing for her but to swear to him over and over again with her sweetest oaths, that those words were true -- true as her soul. And very sweet was the walk down from thence to the parsonage gate. He spoke no more of the distance of the ground, or the length of his day's journey. But he stopped her at every turn that he might press her arm the closer to his own, that he might look into the brightness of her eyes, and prolong his hour of delight. There were no more gibes now on her tongue, no raillery at his London finery, no |0|laughing|0| comments on his coming and going. With downright honesty she told him everything: how she had loved him before her heart was warranted in such a passion; how, with much thinking, she had resolved that it would be unwise to take him at his first word, and had thought it better that he should return to London, and then think over it; how she had almost repented of her courage when she had feared, during those long summer days, that he would forget her; and how her heart had leapt for joy when her old friend had told her that he was coming.\n\n'And yet,' said he, <|Q|>'you were not glad to see me!'<|Q|>\n\n'Oh, was I not glad? You cannot understand the feelings of a girl who has lived secluded as I have done. Glad is no word for the joy I felt. But it was not seeing you that I cared for so much. It was the knowledge that you were near me once again. I almost wish now that I had not seen you till tomorrow.' But as she spoke she pressed his arm, and this caress gave the lie to her last words."}, {"idx": 50714, "candidates": {"0": "sung", "1": "sang", "2": "sang"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\", \"1\": \"no\", \"2\": \"no\"}", "context": "But on he went, without being disheartened, deeper and deeper into the wood, where the most wonderful flowers were growing. There stood white lilies with blood-red stamina, skyblue tulips, which shone as they waved in the winds, and apple-trees, the apples of which looked exactly like large soapbubbles: so only think how the trees must have sparkled in the sunshine! Around the nicest green meads, where the deer were playing in the grass, grew magnificent oaks and beeches; and if the bark of one of the trees was cracked, there grass and long creeping plants grew in the crevices. And there were large calm lakes there too, in which white swans were swimming, and beat the air with their wings. The King's Son often stood still and listened. He thought the bell sounded from the depths of these still lakes; but then he remarked again that the tone proceeded not from there, but farther off, from out the depths of the forest.\n\nThe sun now set: the atmosphere glowed like fire. It was still in the woods, so very still; and he fell on his knees, |0|sung|0| his evening hymn, and said: <|Q|>\u201cI cannot find what I seek; the sun is going down, and night is coming -- the dark, dark night. Yet perhaps I may be able once more to see the round red sun before he entirely disappears. I will climb up yonder rock.\u201d<|Q|>\n\nAnd he seized hold of the creeping-plants, and the roots of trees -- climbed up the moist stones where the water-snakes were writhing and the toads were croaking -- and he gained the summit before the sun had quite gone down. How magnificent was the sight from this height! The sea -- the great, the glorious sea, that dashed its long waves against the coast -- was stretched out before him. And yonder, where sea and sky meet, stood the sun, like a large shining altar, all melted together in the most glowing colors. And the wood and the sea |1|sang|1| a song of rejoicing, and his heart |2|sang|2| with the rest: all nature was a vast holy church, in which the trees and the buoyant clouds were the pillars, flowers and grass the velvet carpeting, and heaven itself the large cupola. The red colors above faded away as the sun vanished, but a million stars were lighted, a million lamps shone; and the King's Son spread out his arms towards heaven, and wood, and sea; when at the same moment, coming by a path to the right, appeared, in his wooden shoes and jacket, the poor boy who had been confirmed with him. He had followed his own path, and had reached the spot just as soon as the son of the king had done. They ran towards each other, and stood together hand in hand in the vast church of nature and of poetry, while over them sounded the invisible holy bell: blessed spirits floated around them, and lifted up their voices in a rejoicing hallelujah!"}, {"idx": 118322, "candidates": {"0": "paused", "1": "pause", "2": "mumbled"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"no\", \"2\": \"no\"}", "context": "On the stage a blue haze shimmered. Red flame shot through the mist, a net of scarlet, contracting, pulsing, outlining the recognizable patterning of veins and arteries. Among the running fires, the shadow of bones formed a human skeleton in the blue, till suddenly the shape was laced with sudden silver, the net of nerves that held the body imprisoned in sensation. The blue became opaque. Then the black-haired man, barefooted, in rags, staggered forward to the rail and held on for a moment. Above, the crystal faded.\n\nHe blinked his eyes hard before he looked up. He looked around. \"All right,\" he said out loud. \"Where the hell are you?\" He |0|paused|0|. \"Okay. Okay. I know. I'm not supposed to get dependent on you. I guess I'm all right now, aren't I?\" Another |1|pause|1|. \"Well, I feel fine.\" He let go of the rail and looked at his hands, back and palms. \"Dirty as hell,\" he |2|mumbled|2|. <|Q|>\"Wonder where I can get washed up.\"<|Q|> He looked up. \"Yeah, sure. Why not?\" He ducked under the railing and vaulted to the floor. Once again he looked around. \"So I'm really in the castle. After all these years. I never thought I'd see it. Yeah, I guess it really is.\"\n\nHe started forward, but as he passed under the shadow of the great ribbon's end, something happened."}, {"idx": 11568, "candidates": {"0": "laugh"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201cThings can\u2019t go on much longer like this! It is that vile man who is setting you against me. Take care that you don\u2019t try me too far, or I\u2019ll go and denounce him to the police. I will, as true as I stand here!\u201d\n\n<|Q|>\u201cYou\u2019ll denounce him!\u201d<|Q|> echoed La Normande, trembling violently, and clenching her fists. \u201cYou\u2019d better not! Ah, if you weren\u2019t my mother \u2014 \u2014 \u201d\n\nAt this, Claire, who was a spectator of the quarrel, began to |0|laugh|0|, with a nervous laughter that seemed to rasp her throat. For some time past she had been gloomier and more erratic than ever, invariably showing red eyes and a pale face."}, {"idx": 115326, "candidates": {"0": "assure", "1": "assure"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201cI should have done it before,\u201d she said gloomily.\n\n<|Q|>\u201cYou make yourself think things you don\u2019t think,\u201d<|Q|> he continued, becoming demonstrative with his hands, as his manner was. \u201cBelieve me, Katharine, before we came here we were perfectly happy. You were full of plans for our house \u2014 the chair-covers, don\u2019t you remember? \u2014 like any other woman who is about to be married. Now, for no reason whatever, you begin to fret about your feeling and about my feeling, with the usual result. I |0|assure|0| you, Katharine, I\u2019ve been through it all myself. At one time I was always asking myself absurd questions which came to nothing either. What you want, if I may say so, is some occupation to take you out of yourself when this morbid mood comes on. If it hadn\u2019t been for my poetry, I |1|assure|1| you, I should often have been very much in the same state myself. To let you into a secret"}, {"idx": 73612, "candidates": {"0": "whispered"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201cAnd I guess it's all goin' to work together for good. I ain't afraid any but what it's goin' to come out all right. But we got to be up and doin', as they say about 'lection times. The Lord helps them that helps themselves,\u201d said Bolton, and then, as if he felt the weakness of this position as compared with that of entire trust in Providence, he winked his mild eyes, and added, \u201cif they're on the right side, and put their faith in His promises.\u201d\n\n<|Q|>\u201cWell, your dinner's ready now,\u201d<|Q|> Mrs. Bolton said to Annie.\n\nIdella had clung fast to Annie's hand; as Annie started toward the dining-room she got before her, and |0|whispered|0| vehemently."}, {"idx": 109273, "candidates": {"0": "sighed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "\"The offence is the same. I'm afraid it must.\"\n\n<|Q|>\"It will make it very unpleasant for me,\"<|Q|> |0|sighed|0| Moya, \"when I come up here. And when I've found him for you -- and undone anything that was done -- though I don't admit that anything was -- I -- well, I really think you might!\"\n\n\"Might what?\""}, {"idx": 46065, "candidates": {"0": "grunted"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "The brothers looked at the black and thorn-set trees, at the towering rocks, at the wastes of the beautiful snows. They looked with astonishment at this old, half-blind mountaineer with his lean, sinewy arms, and hill-bent legs, and his bandaged eyes. And Thumb lifted his hands in salutation to Ghibba, as if he were a Mulla-mulgar himself.\n\n<|Q|>\"Why should we lead you into strange dangers, O Man of the Mountains,\"<|Q|> he |0|grunted|0| -- \"maybe to death? But if you ask to come with us, if we have only to choose, how can I and my brothers say no? We will at least be friends who do not part while danger is near, and though we never reach the Valley, Tishnar befriends the Meermuts of the brave. Let us, then, go on together.\"\n\nSo Ghibba went back to his people, and told them what Thumb had said. And being now agreed together, they all hobbled off but three, who were left to guard the bundles, to break and cut down wood, and to see if perhaps among the thorns grew any nut-trees. But they found none; and for their pains were only scratched and stung by these waste-trees which bear a deadly poison in their long-hooked thorns. This poison, like the English nettle, causes a terrible itch to follow wherever the thorns scratch. So that the travellers could get no peace from the stinging and itching except by continually rubbing the parts in snow wherever the thorns had entered."}, {"idx": 72718, "candidates": {"0": "laughed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"Who'd have a fit? Nobody but Alfred, and I didn't know you'd gotten afraid of him yet! I say, just let's! We'll have a race, and then come right back.\" The young man looked boyishly eager.\n\n<|Q|>\"It would be nice,\"<|Q|> she mused. They gazed into each other's eyes like a pair of children, and |0|laughed|0|.\n\n\"Why shouldn't we?\" urged the young man. \"I'm dead sick of staying in the moving circle of these confounded wagons. What's the sense of it all, anyway?\""}, {"idx": 94083, "candidates": {"0": "exclaimed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "'You have never been anything but kind,' I |0|exclaimed|0|.\n\n'That I've been self-denying when you made me a generous offer?' he continued. <|Q|>'That I now act to spare you pain? You may tell her, not as a message from me, but as a fact, that I am seriously thinking of vacating my guardianship -- that I feel I have done her an injustice, and that, so soon as my mind is a little less tortured, I shall endeavour to effect a reconciliation with her, and would wish ultimately to transfer the care of your person and education to her. You may say I have no longer an interest even in vindicating my name. My son has wrecked himself by a marriage. I forgot to tell you he stopped at Feltram, and this morning wrote to pray a parting interview. If I grant it, it shall be the last. I shall never see him or correspond with him more.'<|Q|>\n\nThe old man seemed much overcome, and held his hankerchief to his eyes."}, {"idx": 108685, "candidates": {"0": "whispered"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "Again Sammy looked carefully on every side, but lying on the higher ground, and partly hidden by the trees, the little group could not be seen. When there was no answer to her second call, the girl drew a letter from her pocket, and, permitting the pony to roam at will, proceeded to read.\n\nThe big man, looking on, cursed again beneath his breath. <|Q|>\u201cIt\u2019s from Ollie,\u201d<|Q|> he |0|whispered|0| to his companions. \u201cShe stopped at the house. He says his uncle will give me a job in the shops, and that it\u2019ll be fine for me, \u2019cause Ollie will be my boss himself. He my boss! Why, dad burn his sneakin\u2019 little soul, I could crunch him with one hand. I\u2019d see him in hell before I\u2019d take orders from him. I told her so, too,\u201d he finished savagely.\n\n\u201cAnd what did she say"}, {"idx": 57688, "candidates": {"0": "laughed", "1": "laughed", "2": "hissed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"no\", \"2\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"Oh, she's smart,\" said Bog, totally oblivious of her rheumatism, \"and sent her love to ye.\" Bog was a peacemaker.\n\n<|Q|>\"Sent her rheumatism, I guess yer mean. No doubt she wishes I had it.\"<|Q|>\n\nBog |0|laughed|0|, and his uncle |1|laughed|1|. And then his uncle, never forgetting duty, took a sharp look out of the eight clearly polished windows that commanded a view of the surrounding district. Discovering no sign of fire, he resumed the conversation with his nephew, asking him about his business (which he was happy to learn was prosperous), and giving him a quantity of good advice which none but a genius could remember, or an angel follow. During these exhortations, Uncle Ith paced to and fro in the little room, looking out of some window at the end of every sentence. Bog sat on a three-legged stool (the only seat except a backless chair) by the side of a miniature stove, on whose top |2|hissed|2| the kettle, from which Uncle Ith made his pot of coffee at midnight."}, {"idx": 43488, "candidates": {"0": "paused"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201d answered his confidant; \u201cVarney will be found fighting or dying by your side. Forgive me, if, in love to you, I see more fully than your noble heart permits you to do, the inextricable difficulties with which you are surrounded. You are strong, my lord, and powerful; yet, let me say it without offence, you are so only by the reflected light of the Queen's favour. While you are Elizabeth's favourite, you are all, save in name, like an actual sovereign. But let her call back the honours she has bestowed, and the prophet's gourd did not wither more suddenly. Declare against the Queen, and I do not say that in the wide nation, or in this province alone, you would find yourself instantly deserted and outnumbered; but I will say, that even in this very Castle, and in the midst of your vassals, kinsmen, and dependants, you would be a captive, nay, a sentenced captive, should she please to say the word. Think upon Norfolk, my lord -- upon the powerful Northumberland -- the splendid Westmoreland; -- think on all who have made head against this sage Princess. They are dead, captive, or fugitive. This is not like other thrones, which can be overturned by a combination of powerful nobles; the broad foundations which support it are in the extended love and affections of the people. You might share it with Elizabeth if you would; but neither yours, nor any other power, foreign or domestic, will avail to overthrow, or even to shake it.\u201d\n\nHe |0|paused|0|, and Leicester threw his tablets from him with an air of reckless despite. <|Q|>\u201cIt may be as thou sayest,\u201d<|Q|> he said? \u201cand, in sooth, I care not whether truth or cowardice dictate thy forebodings. But it shall not be said I fell without a struggle. Give orders that those of my retainers who served under me in Ireland be gradually drawn into the main Keep, and let our gentlemen and friends stand on their guard, and go armed, as if they expected an onset from the followers of Sussex. Possess the townspeople with some apprehension; let them take arms, and be ready, at a given signal, to overpower the Pensioners and Yeomen of the Guard.\u201d"}, {"idx": 30303, "candidates": {"0": "exclaimed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"After a fashion, perhaps\" -- Gray raised his head and smiled crookedly -- \"but it will never be a home, and that's what I wanted most of all. Do you think I'm very weak, very silly to come to you for a little mothering?\"\n\n<|Q|>\"That's the kind of children mothers love best,\"<|Q|> the old woman said, then she drew him down to her and laid her cheek against his.\n\n\"There! I've made you cry,\" he |0|exclaimed|0|, reproachfully. \"What a selfish beast I am! I'll go now.\""}, {"idx": 80951, "candidates": {"0": "laughed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201cDon\u2019t what?\u201d demanded the Minor Poet.\n\n<|Q|>\u201cDon\u2019t ridicule it \u2014 make fun of it, even though it may happen to be your own. There are parts of it I know by heart. I say them over to myself when \u2014 Don\u2019t spoil it for me.\u201d<|Q|> The Old Maid |0|laughed|0|, but nervously.\n\n\u201cMy dear lady,\u201d reassured her the Minor Poet, \u201cdo not be afraid. No one regards that poem with more reverence than do I. You can have but small conception what a help it is to me also. I, too, so often read it to myself; and when \u2014 We understand. As one who turns his back on scenes of riot to drink the moonlight in quiet ways, I go to it for sweetness and for peace. So much do I admire the poem, I naturally feel desire and curiosity to meet its author, to know him. I should delight, drawing him aside from the crowded room, to grasp him by the hand, to say to him: \u2018My dear \u2014 my very dear Mr. Minor Poet, I am so glad to meet you! I would I could tell you how much your beautiful work has helped me. This, my dear sir \u2014 this is indeed privilege!\u2019 But I can picture so vividly the bored look with which he would receive my gush. I can imagine the contempt with which he, the pure liver, would regard me did he know me \u2014 me, the liver of the fool\u2019s hot days.\u201d"}, {"idx": 80829, "candidates": {"0": "laugh"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "Seed-Time passed thus smoothly, and adolescence came on, and his cousin Clare felt what it was to be of an opposite sex to him. She too was growing, but nobody cared how she grew. Outwardly even her mother seemed absorbed in the sprouting of the green off-shoot of the Feverel tree, and Clare was his handmaiden, little marked by him.\n\nLady Blandish honestly loved the boy. She would tell him: <|Q|>\u201cIf I had been a girl, I would have had you for my husband.\u201d<|Q|> And he with the frankness of his years would reply: \u201cAnd how do you know I would have had you?\u201d causing her to |0|laugh|0| and call him a silly boy, for had he not heard her say she would have had him? Terrible words, he knew not then the meaning of!\n\n\u201cYou don\u2019t read your father\u2019s Book,\u201d she said. Her own copy was bound in purple velvet, gilt-edged, as decorative ladies like to have holier books, and she carried it about with her, and quoted it, and (Adrian remarked to Mrs. Doria) hunted a noble quarry, and deliberately aimed at him therewith, which Mrs. Doria chose to believe, and regretted her brother would not be on his guard."}, {"idx": 7843, "candidates": {"0": "sobbing"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "He did not sleep. He knew that he would not. For all through the day, during his dealing with Moir, on the night trail under the clean stars, his mind had been fighting to shut out a picture that persisted in running before his eyes. Now, alone in the star-lit night, with nothing to occupy him, the picture rushed into being, vivid and living. He could not shut it out. He could not escape it. It was the picture of Hattie MacGregor as he had seen her that morning with the pain and scorn upon her young, fine face. Her voice rang in his ears, the burning words as clear as if she stood by his side:\n\n<|Q|>\u201cI knew it was not a man. Living on your squaws! And you dared to talk to me \u2014 a decent woman!\u201d<|Q|>\n\nReivers cursed and lay looking straight up at the white stars. From the tepee there came a sound that brought him up sitting. He listened, amazed and puzzled. It was Neopa |0|sobbing|0| because she had been torn from her young lover, Nawa, and in the plaint of her pain-racked tones there was something which recalled with accursed clearness the rich voice of Hattie MacGregor."}, {"idx": 47151, "candidates": {"0": "complained"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"A daughter o' the Lord didn't ought to be afraid of an 'Un; besides, you can go round an' 'old 'Earty's 'and. 'E's a rare ole 'ero when there's guns goin' off.\"\n\n<|Q|>\"I knew I shouldn't get any sympathy from you,\"<|Q|> |0|complained|0| Mrs. Bindle, rising and proceeding to bang away the breakfast things. When Mrs. Bindle was suffering from any great stress of emotion, she expressed her feelings by the noise she made. Ironing gave her the greatest opportunities. She could bang the iron on the ironing-board, back again to the stand, and finally on to the stove.\n\n\"I got to earn a livin',\" remarked Bindle philosophically as he proceeded to light his pipe. \"It's war-time too, an' nobody can't afford to move, so pore ole Joe 'as to take any ole job 'e can get 'old of.\""}, {"idx": 64886, "candidates": {"0": "panting", "1": "paused"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201cWhy calls my friend? thy loved injunctions lay; Whate\u2019er thy will, Patroclus shall obey.\u201d\n\n<|Q|>\u201cO first of friends! (Pelides thus replied) Still at my heart, and ever at my side! The time is come, when yon despairing host Shall learn the value of the man they lost: Now at my knees the Greeks shall pour their moan, And proud Atrides tremble on his throne. Go now to Nestor, and from him be taught What wounded warrior late his chariot brought: For, seen at distance, and but seen behind, His form recall\u2019d Machaon to my mind; Nor could I, through yon cloud, discern his face, The coursers pass\u2019d me with so swift a pace.\u201d<|Q|>\n\nThe hero said. His friend obey\u2019d with haste, Through intermingled ships and tents he pass\u2019d; The chiefs descending from their car he found: The |0|panting|0| steeds Eurymedon unbound. The warriors standing on the breezy shore, To dry their sweat, and wash away the gore, Here |1|paused|1| a moment, while the gentle gale Convey\u2019d that freshness the cool seas exhale; Then to consult on farther methods went, And took their seats beneath the shady tent. The draught prescribed, fair Hecamede prepares, Arsinous\u2019 daughter, graced with golden hairs: (Whom to his aged arms, a royal slave, Greece, as the prize of Nestor\u2019s wisdom gave:) A table first with azure feet she placed; Whose ample orb a brazen charger graced; Honey new-press\u2019d, the sacred flour of wheat, And wholesome garlic, crown\u2019d the savoury treat, Next her white hand an antique goblet brings, A goblet sacred to the Pylian kings From eldest times: emboss\u2019d with studs of gold, Two feet support it, and four handles hold; On each bright handle, bending o\u2019er the brink, In sculptured gold, two turtles seem to drink: A massy weight, yet heaved with ease by him, When the brisk nectar overlook\u2019d the brim. Temper\u2019d in this, the nymph of form divine Pours a large portion of the Pramnian wine; With goat\u2019s-milk cheese a flavourous taste bestows, And last with flour the smiling surface strows: This for the wounded prince the dame prepares: The cordial beverage reverend Nestor shares: Salubrious draughts the warriors\u2019 thirst allay, And pleasing conference beguiles the day."}, {"idx": 83430, "candidates": {"0": "boasted"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "In the guise of a beggar-maid, and fair, like a fugitive princess of romance, she sat concealed in the very heart of her dominions. This cavern belonged to her, as Castro remarked, and the bay of the sea, and the earth above our heads, the rolling upland, herds of cattle, fields of sugar-cane -- even as far as the forest away there; the forest itself, too. And there were on that estate, alone, over two hundred Africans, he was able to tell us. He |0|boasted|0| of the wealth of the Riegos. Her Excellency, probably, did not know such details. Two hundred -- certainly. The estate of Don Vincente Salazar was on the other side of the river. Don Vincente was at present suffering the indignity of a prison for a small matter of a quarrel with another caballero -- who had died lately -- and all, he understood, through the intrigues of the prior of a certain convent; the uncle, they said, of the dead caballero. Bah! There was something to get. These fat friars were like the lean wolves of Russia -- hungry for everything they could see. Never enough, Cuerpo de Bios! Never enough! Like their good friend who helped them in their iniquities, the Juez O\u2019Brien, who had been getting rich for years on the sublime generosity of her Excellency\u2019s blessed father. In the greatness of his nobility, Don Balthasar of holy memory had every right to be obstinate.... Basta! He would speak no more; only there is a saying in Castile that fools and obstinate people make lawyers rich....\n\n<|Q|>\u201cVuestra Se\u00f1oria,\u201d<|Q|> he cried, checking himself, slapping his breast penitently, \u201cdeign to forgive me. I have been greatly exalted by the familiarity of the two last men of your house -- allowed to speak freely because of my fidelity.... Alas! Alas!\u201d\n\nSeraphina, on the other side of the fire, made a vague gesture, and took her chin in her hand without looking at him."}, {"idx": 72492, "candidates": {"0": "sobbed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"I'm fairly murthered with him, thin, so I am, -- the baist, the villain, the swindhler. What am I to do at all, and my things all desthroyed? Look at this, thin!\" and she held up the cause of war. \"Did mortial man iver see the like of that? And I'm beaten black and blue wid him, -- so I am.\" And then she |0|sobbed|0| violently.\n\n\"So you are, Mrs. Morony,\" said Miss Biles. <|Q|>\"He to call himself a man indeed, and to go to strike a woman!\"<|Q|>\n\n\"It's thrue for you, dear,\" continued Mrs. Morony. \"Policemen, mind, I give him in charge. You're all witnesses, I give that man in charge.\""}, {"idx": 56713, "candidates": {"0": "wept"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "Tears -- copious woman-like tears choked the utterance of the athletic youth, who looked as if he could fight and conquer in any strife to which fortune or misfortune could lead him. But the softness that now mastered him came not of weakness, but of strength -- strength of every feeling that might do honour to a man. For a few moments he gave way to this burst of passionate sorrow, and the mother and son |0|wept|0| together.\n\n<|Q|>\"My own dear Charles!\"<|Q|> said Mrs. Mowbray, taking his hand and pressing it to her heart, \"how could I think for a moment that you would urge me to do what was so very painful!\"\n\n\"It can hardly be so painful for you to do as for me to urge it, dearest mother; and yet I must do so ... because I think it right. There is no other person in the world, I think, of what rank or station soever, for whose admittance I would plead so earnestly, unless it were one who, like this gentleman, offered to visit you as the minister of God.\""}, {"idx": 23315, "candidates": {"0": "exclaimed", "1": "pronounced"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "And, throwing himself on his sister's neck, he burst into tears. He had apostrophized her in the manner just related, not because he fancied that she could hear or understand him; but because he forgot, in the maddening paroxysms of his grief, that Nisida was (as he believed) deaf and dumb! She wound her arms round him -- she pressed him to her bosom -- she covered his pale forehead with kisses; while her heart bled at the sight of his alarming sorrow.\n\nSuddenly he started up -- flung his arms wildly about -- and |0|exclaimed|0|, in a frantic voice, <|Q|>\"Bring me my steel panoply! give me my burgonet -- my cuirass -- and my trusty sword; -- and let me arouse all Florence to a sense of its infamy in permitting that terrible inquisition to exist! Bring me my armor, I say -- the same sword I wielded on the walls of Rhodes -- and I will soon gather a trusty band to aid me!\"<|Q|>\n\nBut, overcome with excitement, he fell forward -- dashing his head violently upon the floor, before Nisida could save him. She pealed the silver bell that was placed upon the breakfast-table, and assistance soon came. Francisco was immediately conveyed to his chamber -- Dr. Duras was sent for -- and on his arrival, he |1|pronounced|1| the young nobleman to be laboring under a violent fever. The proper medical precautions were adopted; and the physician was in a few hours able to declare that Francisco was in no imminent danger, but that several days would elapse ere he could possibly become convalescent. Nisida remained by his bedside, and was most assiduous -- most tender -- most anxious in her attentions toward him; and when he raved, in his delirium, of Flora and the inquisition, it went to her very heart to think that she was compelled by a stern necessity to abstain from exerting her influence to procure the release of one whose presence would prove of far greater benefit to the sufferer than all the anodynes and drugs which the skill of Dr. Duras might administer!"}, {"idx": 62989, "candidates": {"0": "admit"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\" She put her hand at once into his. \"And a kiss.\" She just turned herself a little round, with her eyes bent upon the ground. \"Nay; there must be a kiss.\" Then he bent over her, and just touched her cheek. \"Mary, you are now all my own.\" Yes; -- she was now all his own, and she would do for him the best in her power. He had not asked for her love, and she certainly had not given it. She knew well how impossible it would be that she should give him her love. \"I know you are disturbed,\" he said. <|Q|>\"I wish also for a few minutes to think of it all.\"<|Q|> Then he turned away from her, and went up the garden walk by himself.\n\nShe, slowly loitering, went into the house alone, and seated herself by the open window in her bed-chamber. As she sat there she could see him up the long walk, going and returning. As he went his hands were folded behind his back, and she thought that he appeared older than she had ever remarked him to be before. What did it signify? She had undertaken her business in life, and the duties she thought would be within her power. She was sure that she would be true to him, as far as truth to his material interests was concerned. His comforts in life should be her first care. If he trusted her at all, he should not become poorer by reason of his confidence. And she would be as tender to him as the circumstances would |0|admit|0|. She would not begrudge him kisses if he cared for them. They were his by all the rights of contract. He certainly had the best of the bargain, but he should never know how much the best of it he had. He had told her that there had better be no speaking of John Gordon. There certainly should be none on her part. She had told him that she must continue to think of him. There at any rate she had been honest. But he should not see that she thought of him."}, {"idx": 6851, "candidates": {"0": "laughed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "The earl did not profess to be a man of sentiment. As a rule, he considered love a kind of weakness to which one was especially liable in youth, but this wondrous love of Earle Moray's impressed him greatly. He had decided to drive himself to the station to meet his young guest, to whom he desired to show all honor; then Lady Linleigh had said it would be less embarrassing for them to meet alone.\n\n<|Q|>\"What a fund of sentiment you have, Estelle,\"<|Q|> |0|laughed|0| the earl. \"By all means, arrange a tete-a-tete for them. My honest belief is that women never tire of love-stories.\"\n\nHe did not know how such speeches as these jarred upon the tender, sensitive heart of his wife. But Lady Linleigh was considerate."}, {"idx": 76138, "candidates": {"0": "laughed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "The Princess |0|laughed|0| happily.\n\n<|Q|>\"I think there will be enough there for him. It all looks very nice.\"<|Q|>\n\nShe turned round and discovered behind her the last person she wanted to see just then."}, {"idx": 41674, "candidates": {"0": "weep"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"I heard his last words,\" said Indiana gloomily; \"at the moment that I left him forever, he spoke to me in his sleep. 'That man will ruin you,' he said. Those words are here,\" she added, putting one hand to her heart and the other to her head.\n\n<|Q|>\"When I succeeded in taking my eyes and my thoughts from that dead body,\"<|Q|> continued Ralph, \"I thought of you; of you, Indiana, who were free thenceforth, and who could not |0|weep|0| for your master unless from kindness of heart or religious feeling. I was the only one whom his death deprived of something, for I was his friend, and, even if he was not always very sociable, at all events I had no rival in his heart. I feared the effect of breaking the news to you too suddenly, and I went to the door to wait for you, thinking that you would soon return from your morning walk. I waited a long while. I will not attempt to describe my anxiety, my search, and my alarm when I found Ophelia's body, all bleeding and bruised by the rocks; the waves had washed it upon the beach. I looked a long while, alas! expecting to discover yours; for I thought that you had taken your own life, and for three days I believed that there was nothing left on earth for me to love. It is useless to speak of my grief; you must have foreseen it when you abandoned me."}, {"idx": 72840, "candidates": {"0": "roared"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "\"And utterly simple,\" was the reply, \"for all truth is simple.\"\n\nHe paced the floor like a great caged animal. He went down and leaned against the dark bookcase, with his legs wide apart, and hands in his coat pockets. \"To name truly, you see, is to evoke, to create!\" he |0|roared|0| from the end of the room. <|Q|>\"To utter as it should be uttered any one of the Ten Words, or Creative Powers of the Deity in the old Hebrew system, is to become master of the 'world' to which it corresponds. For these names are still in living contact with the realities behind. It means to vibrate with the powers that called the universe into being and -- into form.\"<|Q|>\n\nA sort of shadowy majesty draped his huge figure, Spinrobin thought, as he stood in semi-darkness at the end of the room and thundered forth these extraordinary sentences with a conviction that, for the moment at least, swept away all doubt in the mind of his listener. Dreadful ideas, huge-footed and threatening, rushed to and fro in the secretary's mind. He was torn away from all known anchorage, staggered, dizzy and dismayed; yet at the same time, owing to his adventure-loving temperament, a prey to some secret and delightful exaltation of the spirit. He was out of his depth in great waters...."}, {"idx": 35047, "candidates": {"0": "laughed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"How unkind!\" she said, mockery in her eyes now. \"I wonder why you dislike him so. He is so very harmless, really. My dear,\" she turned to the girl with a gesture of helplessness. \"I am afraid that even in this affair Mr. Glover is seeing my sinister influence!\"\n\n<|Q|>\"You're the most un-sinister person I have ever met, Jean,\"<|Q|> |0|laughed|0| Lydia, \"and Mr. Glover doesn't really think all these horrid things.\"\n\n\"Doesn't he?\" said Jean softly, and Jack saw that she was shaking with laughter."}, {"idx": 45824, "candidates": {"0": "begged"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"Go ahead and tell me -- tell me all -- my life at present is that of Rollo, I perceive, and I am most complacent after this meal.\"\n\n<|Q|>\"Uncle, I rejoice in your discovery, I do indeed. You are an uncle after my own heart,\"<|Q|> said Jerrold.\n\nSo my fair niece, looking like any other charming girl in a pretty evening frock, began to expound her specialty. Her mother |0|begged|0| to interrupt for the moment. \"Let me recall to him things as they were -- which you hardly know, you happy child. Don't forget, John, that when we were young we did not know what good food was.\""}, {"idx": 50883, "candidates": {"0": "wept"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "There was a knock at the door; and Margaret, her nerves shattered by all that she had endured, could hardly restrain a cry of terror. She feared that Haddo had returned. But it was Arthur Burdon. She greeted him with a passionate relief that was unusual, for she was by nature a woman of great self-possession. She felt excessively weak, physically exhausted as though she had gone a long journey, and her mind was highly wrought. Margaret remembered that her state had been the same on her first arrival in Paris, when, in her eagerness to get a preliminary glimpse of its marvels, she had hurried till her bones ached from one celebrated monument to another. They began to speak of trivial things. Margaret tried to join calmly in the conversation, but her voice sounded unnatural, and she fancied that more than once Arthur gave her a curious look. At length she could control herself no longer and burst into a sudden flood of tears. In a moment, uncomprehending but affectionate, he caught her in his arms. He asked tenderly what was the matter. He sought to comfort her. She |0|wept|0| ungovernably, clinging to him for protection.\n\n\u201cOh, it\u2019s nothing,\u201d she gasped. <|Q|>\u201cI don\u2019t know what is the matter with me. I\u2019m only nervous and frightened.\u201d<|Q|>\n\nArthur had an idea that women were often afflicted with what he described by the old-fashioned name of vapours, and was not disposed to pay much attention to this vehement distress. He soothed her as he would have done a child."}, {"idx": 95095, "candidates": {"0": "whispered", "1": "whispered"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "According to this eminent interpreter of the Drama, Hamlet wore a short black cloak (which he chiefly used for muffling up his face, as if he suffered a good deal from toothache), and turned out his toes very much as he walked. \u201cTo be or not to be!\u201d Hamlet remarked in a cheerful tone, and then turned head-over-heels several times, his cloak dropping off in the performance.\n\nI felt a little disappointed: Bruno's conception of the part seemed so wanting in dignity. <|Q|>\u201cWon't he say any more of the speech?\u201d<|Q|> I |0|whispered|0| to Sylvie.\n\n\u201cI think not,\u201d Sylvie |1|whispered|1| in reply. \u201cHe generally turns head-over-heels when he doesn't know any more words.\u201d"}, {"idx": 24684, "candidates": {"0": "confide"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "I HAVE seen Vera to-day. She has begun to plague me with her jealousy. Princess Mary has taken it into her head, it seems, to |0|confide|0| the secrets of her heart to Vera: a happy choice, it must be confessed!\n\n\u201cI can guess what all this is leading to,\u201d said Vera to me. <|Q|>\u201cYou had better simply tell me at once that you are in love with her.\u201d<|Q|>\n\n\u201cBut supposing I am not in love with her?\u201d"}, {"idx": 68672, "candidates": {"0": "laugh"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"True, so that when I think of myself or when riding by I see Vodokty, I grieve still. I wanted to strike out the wedge with a wedge,[18] and went to Pan Schilling, who has a very comely daughter. Once I saw her on the road at a distance, and she took my fancy greatly. I went to his house, and what shall I say, gentlemen? I did not find the father at home, but the daughter Panna Kahna thought that I was not Pan Volodyovski, but only Pan Volodyovski's attendant. I took the affront so to heart that I have never shown myself there again.\"\n\nZagloba began to |0|laugh|0|. <|Q|>\"God help you, Michael! The whole matter is this, -- you must find a wife of such stature as you are yourself. But where did that little rogue go to who was in attendance on Princess Vishnyevetski, and whom the late Pan Podbipienta -- God light his soul! -- was to marry? She was just your size, a regular peach-stone, though her eyes did shine terribly.\"<|Q|>\n\n\"That was Anusia Borzabogati,\" said Pan Yan. \"We were all in love with her in our time, -- Michael too. God knows where she is now!\""}, {"idx": 96535, "candidates": {"0": "hooted", "1": "giggled"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"yes\"}", "context": "\"Sew?\" |0|hooted|0| Rollins.\n\n\"Oh, I'd just love to catalog shells!\" cried the May Girl. In that single instant the somewhat indeterminate quiver of her lips had bloomed into a real smile. By a dexterous movement, released from Rollins's arm, she turned and fled for the door. \"Up-stairs, you mean, don't you?\" she cried. The smile had reached her eyes now. In another minute it seemed as though even her hair would be all laughter. <|Q|>\"At the big table in the upper hall? Where you were working yesterday? One, on one side of the table -- and one -- the other? And one, the other!\"<|Q|> she |1|giggled|1| triumphantly.\n\nWith unflagging agility Rollins started after her."}, {"idx": 60374, "candidates": {"0": "retorted"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "\u201cThe time for talkin' 's past, old cock. The time for fightin' 's come.\u201d\n\n<|Q|>\u201cA hell of a chance you'd have against regular troops and machine guns,\u201d<|Q|> Billy |0|retorted|0|.\n\n\u201cOh, not that way. There's such things as greasy sticks that go up with a loud noise and leave holes. There's such things as emery powder -- \u201d"}, {"idx": 29494, "candidates": {"0": "laughed", "1": "announced"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"yes\"}", "context": "Then Kenneth |0|laughed|0|, and the sound sent a nervous shiver through the group.\n\n\"Tato's a brick!\" |1|announced|1| the boy, audaciously. <|Q|>\"Can't you see, you stupids, that the thing is a good joke on us all? Or are you too thin skinned to laugh at your own expense?\"<|Q|>\n\n\"Oh, we can laugh,\" responded Uncle John, gravely. \"But if Tato's a brick it's because she is hard and insensible. The loss of the money doesn't hurt me, but to think the wicked little lass made me love her when she didn't deserve it is the hardest blow I have ever received.\""}, {"idx": 115352, "candidates": {"0": "exclaimed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "In less than a moment his arms were round her, he was straining her to his heart, and raining kisses on her face. Then \u2014 but Lily did not know it \u2014 he did a rather fine thing. He drew back.\n\n\u201cForgive me!\u201d he |0|exclaimed|0|. <|Q|>\u201cThat was wrong! But a man can\u2019t always do right. For \u2014 and I\u2019m quite serious, mind you \u2014 we\u2019re not to consider ourselves engaged till you\u2019ve written to your uncle, till you know a little more about me, till \u2014 till\u201d<|Q|> \u2014 he could not say \u201ctill you do a little more than like me!\u201d for he knew now that she did.\n\nThey walked on a little way in silence, both extraordinarily happy, yet both feeling extraordinarily shy."}, {"idx": 87510, "candidates": {"0": "wept", "1": "weep"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "She spoke, and from her trembling head she tore the snow-white hair, And scratched her cheeks: her eyes shed floods of tears. As when a torrent headlong rushes down the valleys drear, Its icy fetters gone when Sprint appears, And strikes the frozen shackles from rejuvenated earth So down her face the tears in torrents swept And wracking sobs convulsed her as she |0|wept|0|.\n\n\u201cPlease don\u2019t make such a fuss,\u201d I said, <|Q|>\u201cI\u2019ll give you an ostrich in place of your goose!\u201d<|Q|> While she sat upon the cot and, to my stupefaction, bewailed the death of the goose, Proselenos came in with the materials for the sacrifice. Seeing the dead goose and inquiring the cause of her grief, she herself commenced to |1|weep|1| more violently still and to commiserate me, as if I had slain my own father, instead of a public goose. Growing tired of this nonsense at last, \u201cSee here,\u201d said I, \u201ccould I not purchase immunity for a price, even though I had assaulted you\u2019? Even though I had murdered a man? Look here! I\u2019m laying down two gold pieces, you can buy both gods and geese with them"}, {"idx": 57818, "candidates": {"0": "imploring"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "Maheude, still |0|imploring|0| Maigrat with her look, felt herself uncomfortable under the pale keenness of his small eyes, which seemed to undress her. It made her angry; she would have understood before she had had seven children, when she was young. And she went off, violently dragging L\u00e9nore and Henri who were occupied in picking up nut-shells from the gutter where they were making investigations.\n\n<|Q|>\"This won't bring you luck, Monsieur Maigrat, remember!\"<|Q|>\n\nNow there only remained the Piolaine people. If these would not throw her a five-franc piece she might as well lie down and die. She had taken the Joiselle road on the left. The administration building was there at the corner of the road, a veritable brick palace, where the great people from Paris, princes and generals and members of the Government, came every autumn to give large dinners. As she walked she was already spending the five francs, first bread, then coffee, afterwards a quarter of butter, a bushel of potatoes for the morning soup and the evening stew; finally, perhaps, a bit of pig's chitterlings, for the father needed meat."}, {"idx": 67577, "candidates": {"0": "laughed", "1": "humming"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "They talked a little longer, arranging all things, Sir John so intent on hurrying the event that Jean had nothing to do but give a ready assent to all his suggestions. One fear alone disturbed her. If Sir John went to town, he might meet Edward, might hear and believe his statements. Then all would be lost. Yet this risk must be incurred, if the marriage was to be speedily and safely accomplished; and to guard against the meeting was Jean\u2019s sole care. As they went through the park -- for Sir John insisted upon taking her home -- she said, clinging to his arm:\n\n<|Q|>\u201cDear friend, bear one thing in mind, else we shall be much annoyed, and all our plans disarranged. Avoid your nephews; you are so frank your face will betray you. They both love me, are both hot-tempered, and in the first excitement of the discovery might be violent. You must incur no danger, no disrespect for my sake; so shun them both till we are safe -- particularly Edward. He will feel that his brother has wronged him, and that you have succeeded where he failed. This will irritate him, and I fear a stormy scene. Promise to avoid both for a day or two; do not listen to them, do not see them, do not write to or receive letters from them. It is foolish, I know; but you are all I have, and I am haunted by a strange foreboding that I am to lose you.\u201d<|Q|>\n\nTouched and flattered by her tender solicitude, Sir John promised everything, even while he |0|laughed|0| at her fears. Love blinded the good gentleman to the peculiarity of the request; the novelty, romance, and secrecy of the affair rather bewildered though it charmed him; and the knowledge that he had outrivaled three young and ardent lovers gratified his vanity more than he would confess. Parting from the girl at the garden gate, he turned homeward, feeling like a boy again, and loitered back, |1|humming|1| a love lay, quite forgetful of evening damps, gout, and the five-and-fifty years which lay so lightly on his shoulders since Jean\u2019s arms had rested there. She hurried toward the house, anxious to escape Coventry; but he was waiting for her, and she was forced to meet him."}, {"idx": 46066, "candidates": {"0": "shouting"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "In such case stood they, nor were Teshmar\u2019s folk more than twenty paces from the walls, when, sudden as night-lightning, flares were kindled along the walls, dazzling the Goblins and the Demons and brightly lighting them for those that manned the walls, who fell a-shooting at them with spears and arrows and a-slinging of stones. In the same moment opened a postern gate, whence sallied forth the Lord Corinius with an hundred and fifty stout lads of Witchland, |0|shouting|0|, <|Q|>\u201cHe that would sup of the crab of Witchland must deal with the nippers ere he essay the shell\u201d<|Q|>; and charging Gaslark\u2019s army in the flank he cut them clean in two. As one wood fared forth Corinius, smiting on either hand with a two-edged axe with heft lapped with bronze; and greatly though the folk of Gaslark outnumbered him, yet were they so taken at unawares and confounded by the sudden onslaught of Corinius that they might not abide him but everywhere gave ground before his onslaught. And many were wounded and some were slain; and with these Teshmar of Goblinland, the master of Gaslark\u2019s ship. For smiting at Corinius and missing of his aim he louted forward with the blow, and Corinius hewed at him with his axe and the blow came on Teshmar\u2019s neck and so hewed off his head. Now Gaslark with the best of his fighting men was come some way past the postern, but whenas they fell to fighting he turned back straightway to meet Corinius, calling loudly on his men to rally against the Witches and drive them back within the walls. So when Gaslark was gotten through the press to within reach of Corinius, he thrust at Corinius with a spear, wounding him in the arm. But Corinius smote the spear-shaft asunder with his axe, and leapt upon Gaslark, giving him a great wound on the shoulder. And Gaslark took to his sword, and many blows they bandied that made either stagger, till Corinius struck Gaslark on the helm a great down-stroke of his axe, as one driveth a pile with a wooden mallet. And because of the good helm he wore, given by Lord Juss in days gone by as a gift of love and friendship, was Gaslark saved and his head not cloven asunder; for on that helm Corinius\u2019s axe might not bite. Yet with that great stroke were Gaslark\u2019s senses driven forth of him for a season, so that he fell senseless to the earth. And with his fall came dismay upon them of Goblinland."}, {"idx": 17691, "candidates": {"0": "sighed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "\u201cThe job of corrupting Cy was done by your sinless town, five years ago!\u201d\n\nMrs. Bogart did not rage in return. Suddenly she was hopeless. Her head drooped. She patted her black kid gloves, picked at a thread of her faded brown skirt, and |0|sighed|0|, <|Q|>\u201cHe's a good boy, and awful affectionate if you treat him right. Some thinks he's terrible wild, but that's because he's young. And he's so brave and truthful -- why, he was one of the first in town that wanted to enlist for the war, and I had to speak real sharp to him to keep him from running away. I didn't want him to get into no bad influences round these camps -- and then,\u201d<|Q|> Mrs. Bogart rose from her pitifulness, recovered her pace, \u201cthen I go and bring into my own house a woman that's worse, when all's said and done, than any bad woman he could have met. You say this Mullins woman is too young and inexperienced to corrupt Cy. Well then, she's too young and inexperienced to teach him, too, one or t'other, you can't have your cake and eat it! So it don't make no difference which reason they fire her for, and that's practically almost what I said to the school-board.\u201d"}, {"idx": 33199, "candidates": {"0": "sobbed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "Even Miss Sara exasperated me. But then she had her excuse. The child she loved as her own had been torn from her and it almost broke her heart. But even so, I thought she ought to have had a little more faith in Marcella.\n\n\"Oh, no, she'll never come back,\" |0|sobbed|0| Miss Sara. <|Q|>\"Yes, I know she promised. But they'll wean her away from me. She'll have such a gay, splendid life she'll not want to come back. Five years is a lifetime at her age. No, don't try to comfort me, Miss Tranquil, because I won't be comforted!\"<|Q|>\n\nWhen a person has made up her mind to be miserable you just have to let her be miserable."}, {"idx": 98744, "candidates": {"0": "laughing"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201cMadame Bonacieux is not at liberty this evening,\u201d replied the husband, seriously; \u201cshe is detained at the Louvre this evening by her duties.\u201d\n\n<|Q|>\u201cSo much the worse for you, my dear host, so much the worse! When I am happy, I wish all the world to be so; but it appears that is not possible.\u201d<|Q|>\n\nThe young man departed, |0|laughing|0| at the joke, which he thought he alone could comprehend."}, {"idx": 94578, "candidates": {"0": "laughed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "\"Oh, it's all rubbish,\" said the Squire, who, not knowing anything about the occult, refused to believe what Patricia had told him, and what Akira had so strangely affirmed. \"And even if such is the case -- which I don't believe -- the jewel is not here.\"\n\nAkira |0|laughed|0| and nodded. <|Q|>\"Now you can understand why I warned you not to seek for your family emerald again,\"<|Q|> he said.\n\n\"I'm afraid I'll never see it,\" said Colpster, lying with great ease. \"From what Theodore thinks, it must be now on its way back to Japan.\""}, {"idx": 90359, "candidates": {"0": "laughed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "\u201cI am not blind to your faults,\u201d Thyra said indignantly. \u201cI know that you are a great deal more lazy than becomes you; that you are not sufficiently earnest in the affairs of life; that you will never rise to be a great general like my cousin Hannibal.\u201d\n\n<|Q|>\u201cThat is all quite true,\u201d<|Q|> Adherbal |0|laughed|0|; \u201cand yet you see you love me. You perceive my faults only in theory and not in fact, and you do not in your heart wish to see me different from what I am. Is it not so?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d the girl said shyly, \u201cI suppose it is. Anyhow, I don't like the thought of your going away from me to that horrid Iberia.\u201d"}, {"idx": 53572, "candidates": {"0": "exclaimed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "\"And am I to remain in ignorance of the motives which compel you to refuse my suit?\" asked Lord Ellingham bitterly. \"Is there no chance of their influence ceasing? Oh! give me but a glimpse of hope, and so powerful is my attachment \u2014 so devoted my love \u2014 \u2014 \"\n\n<|Q|>\"Merciful heavens!\"<|Q|> |0|exclaimed|0| Georgiana wildly, \u2014 \"am I then to lose such a man as this?\"\n\nAnd again she clasped her hands convulsively together."}, {"idx": 90291, "candidates": {"0": "whispering", "1": "sang", "2": "boast", "3": "laughed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"no\", \"2\": \"no\", \"3\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201d he made haste and hid behind a hedge or took to the woods. In course of time the desire to escape became an instinct, to be followed as a matter of course; in the same way he avoided the adders on the mountain. His old ideals were almost if not quite forgotten; he knew that the female of the b\u00eate humaine, like the adder, would in all probability sting, and he therefore shrank from its trail, but without any feeling of special resentment. The one had a poisoned tongue as the other had a poisoned fang, and it was well to leave them both alone. Then had come that sudden fury of rage against all humanity, as he went out of Caermaen carrying the book that had been stolen from him by the enterprising Beit. He shuddered as he thought of how nearly he had approached the verge of madness, when his eyes filled with blood and the earth seemed to burn with fire. He remembered how he had looked up to the horizon and the sky was blotched with scarlet; and the earth was deep red, with red woods and red fields. There was something of horror in the memory, and in the vision of that wild night walk through dim country, when every shadow seemed a symbol of some terrible impending doom. The murmur of the brook, the wind shrilling through the wood, the pale light flowing from the mouldered trunks, and the picture of his own figure fleeing and fleeting through the shades; all these seemed unhappy things that told a story in fatal hieroglyphics. And then the life and laws of the sunlight had passed away, and the resurrection and kingdom of the dead began. Though his limbs were weary, he had felt his muscles grow strong as steel; a woman, one of the hated race, was beside him in the darkness, and the wild beast woke within him, ravening for blood and brutal lust; all the raging desires of the dim race from which he came assailed his heart. The ghosts issued out from the weird wood and from the caves in the hills, besieging him, as he had imagined the spiritual legion besieging Caermaen, beckoning him to a hideous battle and a victory that he had never imagined in his wildest dreams. And then out of the darkness the kind voice spoke again, and the kind hand was stretched out to draw him up from the pit. It was sweet to think of that which he had found at last; the boy\u2019s picture incarnate, all the passion and compassion of his longing, all the pity and love and consolation. She, that beautiful passionate woman offering up her beauty in sacrifice to him, she was worthy indeed of his worship. He remembered how his tears had fallen upon her breast, and how tenderly she had soothed him, |0|whispering|0| those wonderful unknown words that |1|sang|1| to his heart. And she had made herself defenseless before him, caressing and fondling the body that had been so despised. He exulted in the happy thought that he had knelt down on the ground before her, and had embraced her knees and worshipped. The woman\u2019s body had become his religion; he lay awake at night looking into the darkness with hungry eyes; wishing for a miracle, that the appearance of the so-desired form might be shaped before him. And when he was alone in quiet places in the wood, he fell down again on his knees, and even on his face, stretching out vain hands in the air, as if they would feel her flesh. His father noticed in those days that the inner pocket of his coat was stuffed with papers; he would see Lucian walking up and down in a secret shady place at the bottom of the orchard, reading from his sheaf of manuscript, replacing the leaves, and again drawing them out. He would walk a few quick steps, and pause as if enraptured, gazing in the air as if he looked through the shadows of the world into some sphere of glory, feigned by his thought. Mr. Taylor was almost alarmed at the sight; he concluded of course that Lucian was writing a book. In the first place, there seemed something immodest in seeing the operation performed under one\u2019s eyes; it was as if the \u201cmake-up\u201d of a beautiful actress were done on the stage, in full audience; as if one saw the rounded calves fixed in position, the fleshings drawn on, the voluptuous outlines of the figure produced by means purely mechanical, blushes mantling from the paint-pot, and the golden tresses well secured by the wigmaker. Books, Mr. Taylor thought, should swim into one\u2019s ken mysteriously; they should appear all printed and bound, without apparent genesis; just as children are suddenly told that they have a little sister, found by mamma in the garden. But Lucian was not only engaged in composition; he was plainly rapturous, enthusiastic; Mr. Taylor saw him throw up his hands, and bow his head with strange gesture. The parson began to fear that his son was like some of those mad Frenchmen of whom he had read, young fellows who had a sort of fury of literature, and gave their whole lives to it, spending days over a page, and years over a book, pursuing art as Englishmen pursue money, building up a romance as if it were a business. Now Mr. Taylor held firmly by the \u201cwalking-stick\u201d theory; he believed that a man of letters should have a real profession, some solid employment in life. <|Q|>\u201cGet something to do,\u201d<|Q|> he would have liked to say, \u201cand then you can write as much as you please. Look at Scott, look at Dickens and Trollope.\u201d And then there was the social point of view; it might be right, or it might be wrong, but there could be no doubt that the literary man, as such, was not thought much of in English society. Mr. Taylor knew his Thackeray, and he remembered that old Major Pendennis, society personified, did not exactly |2|boast|2| of his nephew\u2019s occupation. Even Warrington was rather ashamed to own his connection with journalism, and Pendennis himself |3|laughed|3| openly at his novel-writing as an agreeable way of making money, a useful appendage to the cultivation of dukes, his true business in life. This was the plain English view, and Mr. Taylor was no doubt right enough in thinking it good, practical common sense. Therefore when he saw Lucian loitering and sauntering, musing amorously over his manuscript, exhibiting manifest signs of that fine fury which Britons have ever found absurd, he felt grieved at heart, and more than ever sorry that he had not been able to send the boy to Oxford."}, {"idx": 62953, "candidates": {"0": "laughed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201cYes, I\u2019m afraid I have.\u201d She |0|laughed|0| gaily.\n\n<|Q|>\u201cHas Count Beppo the Evil Eye?\u201d<|Q|> asked M. Popeau.\n\n\u201cOh, no! Whatever made you think such a thing? The person who is supposed to have the Evil Eye is a woman. Beppo Polda is staying here with a certain Marchese and Marchesa Pescobaldi. According to my aunt\u201d \u2014 Lily had now quite slipped into the way of calling the Countess Polda her aunt \u2014 \u201cthis Italian lady has the Evil Eye.\u201d"}, {"idx": 3842, "candidates": {"0": "wailed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "\u201cI am very glad to have seen you,\u201d Lily continued, summoning a smile to her unsteady lips. \u201cIt\u2019ll be my turn to think of you as happy \u2014 and the world will seem a less unjust place to me too.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, but I can\u2019t leave you like this \u2014 you\u2019re not fit to go home alone. And I can\u2019t go with you either!\u201d Nettie Struther |0|wailed|0| with a start of recollection. <|Q|>\u201cYou see, it\u2019s my husband\u2019s night-shift \u2014 he\u2019s a motor-man \u2014 and the friend I leave the baby with has to step upstairs to get HER husband\u2019s supper at seven. I didn\u2019t tell you I had a baby, did I? She\u2019ll be four months old day after tomorrow, and to look at her you wouldn\u2019t think I\u2019d ever had a sick day. I\u2019d give anything to show you the baby, Miss Bart, and we live right down the street here \u2014 it\u2019s only three blocks off.\u201d<|Q|> She lifted her eyes tentatively to Lily\u2019s face, and then added with a burst of courage: \u201cWhy won\u2019t you get right into the cars and come home with me while I get baby\u2019s supper? It\u2019s real warm in our kitchen, and you can rest there, and I\u2019ll take YOU home as soon as ever she drops off to sleep.\u201d\n\nIt WAS warm in the kitchen, which, when Nettie Struther\u2019s match had made a flame leap from the gas-jet above the table, revealed itself to Lily as extraordinarily small and almost miraculously clean. A fire shone through the polished flanks of the iron stove, and near it stood a crib in which a baby was sitting upright, with incipient anxiety struggling for expression on a countenance still placid with sleep."}, {"idx": 82685, "candidates": {"0": "laughed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "This was the Red Fox of the mountains, of whom he had heard so much -- \u201cyarb\u201d doctor and Swedenborgian preacher; revenue officer and, some said, cold-blooded murderer. He would walk twenty miles to preach, or would start at any hour of the day or night to minister to the sick, and would charge for neither service. At other hours he would be searching for moonshine stills, or watching his enemies in the valley from some mountain top, with that huge spy-glass -- Hale could see now that the brass tube was a telescope -- that he might slip down and unawares take a pot-shot at them. The Red Fox communicated with spirits, had visions and superhuman powers of locomotion -- stepping mysteriously from the bushes, people said, to walk at the traveller's side and as mysteriously disappearing into them again, to be heard of in a few hours an incredible distance away.\n\n<|Q|>\u201cI've been watchin' ye from up thar,\u201d<|Q|> he said with a wave of his hand. \u201cI seed ye go up the creek, and then the bushes hid ye. I know what you was after -- but did you see any signs up thar of anything you wasn't looking fer?\u201d\n\nHale |0|laughed|0|."}, {"idx": 42684, "candidates": {"0": "shouted"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "The regimental doctor, when he came, said it was absolutely necessary to bleed Den\u00edsov. A deep saucer of black blood was taken from his hairy arm and only then was he able to relate what had happened to him.\n\n\u201cI get there,\u201d began Den\u00edsov. <|Q|>\u201c\u2018Now then, where\u2019s your chief\u2019s quarters?\u2019 They were pointed out. \u2018Please to wait.\u2019 \u2018I\u2019ve widden twenty miles and have duties to attend to and no time to wait. Announce me.\u2019 Vewy well, so out comes their head chief \u2014 also took it into his head to lecture me: \u2018It\u2019s wobbewy!\u2019 \u2014 \u2018Wobbewy,\u2019 I say, \u2018is not done by man who seizes pwovisions to feed his soldiers, but by him who takes them to fill his own pockets!\u2019 \u2018Will you please be silent?\u2019 \u2018Vewy good!\u2019 Then he says: \u2018Go and give a weceipt to the commissioner, but your affair will be passed on to headquarters.\u2019 I go to the commissioner. I enter, and at the table... who do you think? No, but wait a bit!... Who is it that\u2019s starving us?\u201d<|Q|> |0|shouted|0| Den\u00edsov, hitting the table with the fist of his newly bled arm so violently that the table nearly broke down and the tumblers on it jumped about. \u201cTely\u00e1nin! \u2018What? So it\u2019s you who\u2019s starving us to death! Is it? Take this and this!\u2019 and I hit him so pat, stwaight on his snout... \u2018Ah, what a... what a...!\u2019 and I sta\u2019ted fwashing him... Well, I\u2019ve had a bit of fun I can tell you"}, {"idx": 92595, "candidates": {"0": "hesitated"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201cGone. He was an outsider. He was afraid of getting mixed up in a police affair and ran away.\u201d Behind the kitchen door Cutty smiled. She would do, this girl.\n\n\u201cSounds all right,\u201d said the policeman. <|Q|>\u201cI'll take a look at the man.\u201d<|Q|>\n\n\u201cThis way, if you please,\u201d said Kitty, readily. \u201cYou come, too, sir,\u201d she added as the squat man |0|hesitated|0|. Kitty wanted to watch his expression when he saw Johnny Two-Hawks."}, {"idx": 34158, "candidates": {"0": "assured"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\" Many who were in the palace heard this challenge, and the whole court was in an uproar. Kay, too, heard the news as he sat at meat with those who served. Leaving the table, he came straight to the King, and as if greatly enraged, he began to say: \"O King, I have served thee long, faithfully, and loyally; now I take my leave, and shall go away, having no desire to serve thee more.\" The King was grieved at what he heard, and as soon as he could, he thus replied to him: <|Q|>\"Is this serious, or a joke?\"<|Q|> And Kay replied: \"O King, fair sire, I have no desire to jest, and I take my leave quite seriously. No other reward or wages do I wish in return for the service I have given you. My mind is quite made up to go away immediately.\" \"Is it in anger or in spite that you wish to go?\" the King inquired; \"seneschal, remain at court, as you have done hitherto, and be |0|assured|0| that I have nothing in the world which I would not give you at once in return for your consent to stay"}, {"idx": 34631, "candidates": {"0": "hissed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201cWhy, it\u2019s camphor!\u201d Alan picked a piece up and examined it. It was certainly like camphor to look at, but was odourless and of an intense coldness. \u201cIt\u2019s done me. What is it?\u201d\n\nSir John made no reply but took from a little stand a small electric heater. Upon this he placed a quart metal bowl, into which he put the little cube. \u201cVery gentle heat at first, my dears,\u201d said he. \u201cAh!\u201d as it began to melt. <|Q|>\u201cNow I think it\u2019s safe to put on full pressure.\u201d<|Q|>\n\nFascinated, they watched until the vessel became full of a sparkling, bubbling liquid. Turning on another electric switch, he plunged a metal needle into the fluid. It belched forth a cloud of steam, |0|hissed|0| violently and then calmed down."}, {"idx": 6071, "candidates": {"0": "screamed", "1": "panted"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "Conan was too honest to lie. 'If a mortal man could kill him, he'd be dead now,' he answered. 'I nicked my blade on his belly.'\n\nHer eyes dulled. 'Then you must die, and I must -- oh Mitra!' she |0|screamed|0| in sudden frenzy, and Conan caught her hands, fearing that she would harm herself. 'He told me what he was going to do to me!' she |1|panted|1|. <|Q|>'Kill me! Kill me with your sword before he bursts the door!'<|Q|>\n\nConan looked at her, and shook his head."}, {"idx": 96779, "candidates": {"0": "laughing"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "\u201cAll right, only pounded out of breath, and my eyes are full of sand. How about you?\u201d\n\n<|Q|>\u201cI don't think I ever was any wetter,\u201d<|Q|> replied Mescal, |0|laughing|0|. \u201cIt was hard to stick on holding the rifle. That first wave almost unseated me. I was afraid we might strike the rocks, but the water was deep. Silvermane is grand, Jack. Wolf swam out above the rapids and was waiting for us when we landed.\u201d\n\nHare wiped the sand out of his eyes and rose to his feet, finding himself little the worse for the adventure. Mescal was wringing the water from the long straight braids of her hair. She was smiling, and a tint of color showed in her cheeks. The wet buckskin blouse and short skirt clung tightly to her slender form. She made so pretty a picture and appeared so little affected by the peril they had just passed through that Hare, yielding to a tender rush of pride and possession, kissed the pink cheeks till they flamed."}, {"idx": 72444, "candidates": {"0": "howling", "1": "sobbed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "Edythe had eyes like stars, mouth like cherries, neck like a swan, and a laugh like a ripple of music, and wasn't it strange, Nellie Slater had, too? Pearl knew now why Tom chewed Old Chum tobacco so much. Men often plunge into dissipation when they are crossed in love, and maybe Tom would go and be a robber or a pirate or something; and then he might kill a man and be led to the scaffold, and he would turn his haggard face to the |0|howling|0| mob, and say, <|Q|>\"All that I am my mother made me.\"<|Q|> Say, wouldn't that make her feel cheap! Wouldn't that make a woman feel like thirty cents if anything would. Here Pearl's gloomy reflections overcame her and she |1|sobbed|1| aloud.\n\nMrs. Motherwell looked up apprehensively"}, {"idx": 70877, "candidates": {"0": "murmured"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "The first thing she saw, when sense came back to her, was her husband's figure, sitting a little way from the bed, his face turned towards her, gravely watchful. Her first reasonable words -- faintly |0|murmured|0| in a wondering tone -- moved him deeply; but he was strong enough to hide all emotion.\n\n<|Q|>\"When she has quite recovered, I shall go back to Arden,\"<|Q|> he said to himself; \"and leave her to plan her future life with the help of Lady Geraldine's counsel. That woman is a noble creature, and the best friend my wife can have. And then we must make some fair arrangement about the boy -- what time he is to spend with me, and what with his mother. I cannot altogether surrender my son. In any case he is sure to love her best.\"\n\nWhen Clarissa was at last well enough to be moved, her husband took her down to Ventnor, where the sight of her boy, bright and blooming, and the sound of his first syllables -- little broken scraps of language, that are so sweet to mothers' ears -- had a better influence than all Dr. Ormond's medicines. Here, too, came her father, from Nice, where he had been wintering, having devoted his days to the pleasing duty of taking care of himself. He would have come sooner, immediately on hearing of Clarissa's illness, he informed Mr. Granger; but he was a poor frail creature, and to have exposed himself to the north-cast winds of this most uncertain climate early in April would have been to run into the teeth of danger. It was the middle of May now, and May this year had come without her accustomed inclemency."}, {"idx": 81435, "candidates": {"0": "admitted", "1": "admit"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "'But they would never find a leader. If there was some exiled prince of Tchaka's blood, who came back like Prince Charlie to free his people, there might be danger; but their royalties are fat men with top hats and old frock-coats, who live in dirty locations.'\n\nWardlaw |0|admitted|0| this, but said that there might be other kinds of leaders. He had been reading a lot about Ethiopianism, which educated American negroes had been trying to preach in South Africa. He did not see why a kind of bastard Christianity should not be the motive of a rising. <|Q|>'The Kaffir finds it an easy job to mix up Christian emotion and pagan practice. Look at Hayti and some of the performances in the Southern States.'<|Q|>\n\nThen he shook the ashes out of his pipe and leaned forward with a solemn face. 'I'll |1|admit|1| the truth to you, Davie. I'm black afraid.'"}, {"idx": 37811, "candidates": {"0": "implored", "1": "exclaimed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"yes\"}", "context": "\u201cAlas, uncle! mine be the blame, but it is over late. My boy will rule himself for the love of God and of his mother, but he will brook no hand over him \u2014 least of all now he is a knight and thinks himself a man. Uncle, I should be deprived of both my sons, for Friedel\u2019s very soul is bound up with his brother\u2019s. I pray thee enjoin not this thing on me,\u201d she |0|implored|0|.\n\n\u201cChild!\u201d |1|exclaimed|1| Master Gottfried, <|Q|>\u201cthou thinkst not that such a contract as this can be declined for the sake of a wayward Junker!\u201d<|Q|>\n\n\u201cStay, house-father, the little one will doubtless hear reason and submit,\u201d put in the aunt. \u201cHer sons were goodly and delightsome to her in their upgrowth, but they are well-nigh men. They will be away to court and camp, to love and marriage; and how will it be with her then, young and fair as she still is? Well will it be for her to have a stately lord of her own, and a new home of love and honour springing round her.\u201d"}, {"idx": 5743, "candidates": {"0": "wailed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "A DELILAH OF THE COURT OF FRANCE\n\nIt was a cruel fate that snatched Gabrielle d'Estr\u00e9es from the arms of Henri IV., King of France and Navarre, at the moment when her long devotion to her hero-lover was on the eve of being crowned by the bridal veil; and for many a week there was no more stricken man in Europe than the disconsolate King as he |0|wailed|0| in his black-draped chamber, <|Q|>\"The root of my love is dead, and will never blossom again.\"<|Q|>\n\nNo doubt Henri's grief was as sincere as it was deep, for he had loved his golden-haired Gabrielle of the blue eyes and dimpled baby-cheeks as he had never loved woman before. It was the passion of a lifetime, the passion of a strong man in his prime, that fate had thus nipped in the fullness of its bloom; and its loss plunged him into an abyss of sorrow and despair such as few men have known."}, {"idx": 1025, "candidates": {"0": "whispered", "1": "whispering"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "There were red prints of his fingers on her cheek, and her eyes slowly filled. \"You are hurting me,\u201d she said, and feel- ing her soft, vague chin in his palm and her fragile body against his arm, he knew a sudden access of contrition. He picked her up bodily and sat again in a chair, holding her on his lap. \n\n\"Now, then,\u201d he |0|whispered|0|, rocking, holding her face against his shoulder, <|Q|>\"I didn\u2019t mean to be so rough about it.\u201d<|Q|> \n\nShe lay against him limply, weeping, and the rain filled the interval, |1|whispering|1| across the roof, among the leaves of trees. After a long space in which they could hear dripping eaves and the happy sound of gutters and a small ivory clock in "}, {"idx": 66505, "candidates": {"0": "assured"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "An hour later he was walking under the leafless hickory trees that formed a veritable grove surrounding a very large turreted wooden house, one of the oldest in the village. A pleasant-faced little old woman answered his ring, ushered him into the small reception room, and went to summon Mrs. Thompson. He had not long to wait, for his elderly friend, dressed in a simple black silk, as she had been all through the years since her husband had died, soon appeared and greeted him graciously. After explaining that her return had been because of a need for quiet and simpler fare than she could obtain easily in her son\u2019s New York home, the old gentleman explained his mission, telling how he had unexpectedly acquired a family and so had need of a housekeeper. Before his story was finished, he knew by the brightening expression in the fine face of the old lady that she had someone in mind to suggest. Nor was he wrong.\n\n\u201cI believe Mrs. Gray is just the one for you,\u201d she told him. \u201cShe admitted you just now.\u201d Then before Mr. Wainright could reply, Mrs. Thompson continued: <|Q|>\u201cMrs. Gray came to us recently, during my absence. I know nothing at all about her past life; we ask no questions here. It is, as you know, merely a home boarding-house for gentlewomen. I asked Mrs. Gray this morning if she were happy with us, and she said, with a wistful expression on that unusually sweet face of hers, that she was afraid she never would be entirely contented without a home to keep, and she asked me if she might go down in the kitchen now and then and stir up a pudding or something. Now my theory is that she is a born housekeeper and just the one you need.\u201d<|Q|>\n\nColonel Wainright agreed, and the little old lady who longed to putter about a kitchen was called and the proposition was made to her. The other two knew by the brightening of her softly wrinkled face that she was delighted to accept. The Colonel had told about the two Morrison \u201cchildren,\u201d as he called them, who had come to spend the winter with him, and by the tender light that glowed in her eyes he was |0|assured|0| that she loved young people and would have for them an understanding sympathy."}, {"idx": 18786, "candidates": {"0": "shouted", "1": "paused"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "The Commissioner nodded, and she set out her story from the beginning, so sweetly, so simply and with such truth and earnestness, that the concourse of people packed close about her, hung upon her every word, and even Dr. Legh\u2019s coarse face softened as he heard. For the half of an hour or more she spoke, telling of her father\u2019s death, of her flight and marriage, of the burning of Cranwell Towers, and her widowing, if such it were; of her imprisonment in the Priory and the Abbot\u2019s dealings with her and Emlyn; of the birth of her child and its attempted murder by the midwife, his creature; of their trial and condemnation, they being innocent, and of all they had endured that day.\n\n<|Q|>\u201cIf you are innocent,\u201d<|Q|> |0|shouted|0| a priest as she |1|paused|1| for breath, \u201cwhat was that Thing dressed in the livery of Satan which worked evil at Blossholme? Did we not see it with our eyes?\u201d\n\nJust then some one uttered an exclamation and pointed to the shadow of the trees where a strange form was moving. Another moment and it came out into the light. One more and all that multitude scattered like frightened sheep, rushing this way and that; yes, even the horses took the bits between their teeth and bolted. For there, visible to all, Satan himself strolled towards them. On his head were horns, behind his back hung down a tail, his body was shaggy like a beast\u2019s, and his face hideous and of many colours, while in his hand he held a pronged fork with a long handle. This way and that rushed the throng, only the Commissioner, who had dismounted, stood still, perhaps because he was too afraid to stir, and with him the women and some of the nuns, including the Prioress, who fell upon their knees and began to utter prayers."}, {"idx": 68829, "candidates": {"0": "panting"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"Failed !\" she said. \"O, I have been a fool !\" Her cheeks were pale again and seemed to have fallen thin ; her lips drawn back so that he saw her teeth ; her eyes blazed with a tawny light. \"You \u2014 ^you dog \u2014 what I have given you !\" \n\nRoyston made a great roar of laughter. <|Q|>\"Ha! Does it tickle you so? Are you moved, madame; are you moved?\"<|Q|> He came to her in one swift stride and took her bare arms in his grip. She tried to wrench them free, struggling this way and that, |0|panting|0|, biting her lips. But the swarthy hands only bit harder into her flesh and he smiled down in her mad eyes. \"Do you guess who balked us? Who has beaten you? Your dear love, Jerry Stow.\" \n\n\"Stow?\" she gasped. The straining muscles were limp in his hand ; her face, her neck, were all crim- son; her eyes shrank from his; her bosom rose and fell in long shuddering waves ; he saw beads of sweat come upon her brow. "}, {"idx": 114702, "candidates": {"0": "exclaimed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "A RUN ON THE BANK\n\n<|Q|>\"Why, Mr. Pendergast!\"<|Q|> |0|exclaimed|0| Mr. Damon, rising quickly as Tom ushered in the aged president. \"Whatever is the matter? You here at this hour? Bless my trial balance! Is anything wrong?\n\n\"I'm afraid there is,\" answered the bank head. \"I have just received word which made it necessary for me to see you both at once. I'm glad you're here, Mr. Damon.\""}, {"idx": 51768, "candidates": {"0": "whispered"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "A deep flush suffused her neck and face, and for the first time she betrayed confusion. \n\n<|Q|>\"Don't, please I\"<|Q|> she |0|whispered|0|. **It is impossible that any man could love any girl so suddenly. And I don't like to be treated as a silly.\" King had whirled suddenly and was facing her. \n\n\"Impossible? Do you know that it takes ill the will power I can exert to keep from matching you up in my arms ? I resist because I don't want to frighten you. What do I care for people, for Broadway? This is the twen- tieth century I We haven't time to play guitars under windows or sit in the moonlight week after week testing our emotions. We live by faith, move by faith \u2014 faith in ourselves, first, because if we are square, that's faith in God; and then by faith in our women. And when they are square, that's trust in God. We don't just meet the women He creates for us; we have known them all along. We just recognize them and take their hands in ours for eternity. My soul has been sitting at the window all my life, waiting, watching. I have found you. "}, {"idx": 94349, "candidates": {"0": "exclaimed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "There was plenty of material at hand for making other shacks, and they were soon in course of construction. They were made light, as was the one Tom and his friends first built, so that, in case of another shock, no one would be hurt seriously. The two ladies were given the larger shack, and the men divided themselves between two others that were hastily erected on the beach. The remainder of the food and stores was taken from the wreck of the airship, and when darkness began to fall, the camp was snug and comfortable, a big fire of driftwood burning brightly.\n\n\"Oh, if only we can sleep without being awakened by an earthquake!\" |0|exclaimed|0| Mrs. Nestor, as she prepared to go into the shack with Mrs. Anderson. <|Q|>\"But I am almost afraid to close my eyes!\"<|Q|>\n\n\"If it would do any good to stay up and watch, to tell you when one was coming, I'd do so,\" spoke Tom, with a laugh, \"but they come without warning.\""}, {"idx": 66605, "candidates": {"0": "exclaimed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"Test with radium selenate!\" Arcot |0|exclaimed|0|. \"Why, we have no radium salts whatever on Earth that we could use for that purpose. Radium is exceedingly rare!\"\n\n<|Q|>\"Radium is by no means plentiful here,\"<|Q|> Tonlos replied, \"but we seldom have to test for morlus, and we have plenty of radium salts for that purpose. We have never found any other use for radium -- it is so active that it combines with water just as sodium does; it is very soft -- a useless metal, and dangerous to handle. Our chemists have never been able to understand it -- it is always in some kind of reaction no matter what they do, and still it gives off that very light gas, helium, and a heavy gas, niton, and an unaccountable amount of heat.\""}, {"idx": 113906, "candidates": {"0": "announced", "1": "laughing"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"yes\"}", "context": "Duncan noted the object, and prepared himself to renew the trial. The gourd was one of the usual little vessels used by the Indians, and it was suspended from a dead branch of a small pine, by a thong of deerskin, at the full distance of a hundred yards. So strangely compounded is the feeling of self-love, that the young soldier, while he knew the utter worthlessness of the suffrages of his savage umpires, forgot the sudden motives of the contest in a wish to excel. It had been seen, already, that his skill was far from being contemptible, and he now resolved to put forth its nicest qualities. Had his life depended on the issue, the aim of Duncan could not have been more deliberate or guarded. He fired; and three or four young Indians, who sprang forward at the report, |0|announced|0| with a shout, that the ball was in the tree, a very little on one side of the proper object. The warriors uttered a common ejaculation of pleasure, and then turned their eyes, inquiringly, on the movements of his rival.\n\n<|Q|>\u201cIt may do for the Royal Americans!\u201d<|Q|> said Hawkeye, |1|laughing|1| once more in his own silent, heartfelt manner; \u201cbut had my gun often turned so much from the true line, many a marten, whose skin is now in a lady\u2019s muff, would still be in the woods; ay, and many a bloody Mingo, who has departed to his final account, would be acting his deviltries at this very day, atween the provinces. I hope the squaw who owns the gourd has more of them in her wigwam, for this will never hold water again!\u201d"}, {"idx": 86546, "candidates": {"0": "faltered"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "McLean glanced at Peter. Then he took a step toward the girl.\n\n\u201cYou could marry me, Harmony,\u201d he said unsteadily. <|Q|>\u201cI hadn't expected to tell you so soon, or before a third person.\u201d<|Q|> He |0|faltered|0| before Harmony's eyes, full of bewilderment. \u201cI'd be very happy if you -- if you could see it that way. I care a great deal, you see.\u201d\n\nIt seemed hours to Peter before she made any reply, and that her voice came from miles away."}, {"idx": 69697, "candidates": {"0": "implored"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "In the rest of the journey there was nothing out of the common. He reached Amiens in great pain from the cut he had received in his thigh; it had not occurred to the country doctor to lance the wound, and in spite of the bleedings an abscess had formed. During the fortnight that Fabrizio spent in the inn at Amiens, kept by an obsequious and avaricious family, the Allies were invading France, and Fabrizio became another man, so many and profound were his reflexions on the things that had happened to him. He had remained a child upon one point only: what he had seen, was it a battle; and, if so, was that battle Waterloo? For the first time in his life he found pleasure in reading; he was always hoping to find in the newspapers, or in the published accounts of the battle, some description which would enable him to identify the ground he had covered with Marshal Ney's escort, and afterwards with the other general. During his stay at Amiens he wrote almost every day to his good friends at the Woolcomb. As soon as his wound was healed, he came to Paris. He found at his former hotel a score of letters from his mother and aunt, who |0|implored|0| him to return home as soon as possible. The last letter from Contessa Pietranera had a certain enigmatic tone which made him extremely uneasy; this letter destroyed all his tender fancies. His was a character to which a single word was enough to make him readily anticipate the greatest misfortunes; his imagination then stepped in and depicted these misfortunes to him with the most horrible details.\n\n\"Take care never to sign the letters you write to tell us what you are doing,\" the Contessa warned him. <|Q|>\"On your return you must on no account come straight to the Lake of Como. Stop at Lugano, on Swiss soil.\"<|Q|> He was to arrive in this little town under the name of Cavi; he would find at the principal inn the Contessa's footman, who would tell him what to do. His aunt ended her letter as follows: \"Take every possible precaution to keep your mad escapade secret, and above all do not carry on you any printed or written document; in Switzerland you will be surrounded by the friends of Santa Margherita.[8] If I have enough money,\" the Contessa told him,"}, {"idx": 32075, "candidates": {"0": "paused"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"Perhaps they prefer painting that kind, but I don't see why they should invite five, with three more young gentlemen, and all get into two cabs and drive away singing. This street,\" she continued, \"is dull. There is nothing to see except the garden and a glimpse of the Boulevard Montparnasse through the rue de la Grande Chaumi\u00e8re. No one ever passes except a policeman. There is a convent on the corner.\"\n\n<|Q|>\"I thought it was a Jesuit College,\"<|Q|> began Hastings, but was at once overwhelmed with a Baedecker description of the place, ending with, \"On one side stand the palatial hotels of Jean Paul Laurens and Guillaume Bouguereau, and opposite, in the little Passage Stanislas, Carolus Duran paints the masterpieces which charm the world.\"\n\nThe blackbird burst into a ripple of golden throaty notes, and from some distant green spot in the city an unknown wild-bird answered with a frenzy of liquid trills until the sparrows |0|paused|0| in their ablutions to look up with restless chirps."}, {"idx": 75378, "candidates": {"0": "wailing"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"Do what thou desire; I will not gainsay thee in aught. And if thou prolong thy mourning for many days it were a little thing; for though the Moslems resolve to beleaguer us years and years, they will never win their will of us nor gain aught of us save trouble and weariness.\" Then the Accursed One (when she had ended with the calamity she had wrought and the ignominies which in herself she had thought) took ink case and paper and wrote thereon: <|Q|>\"From Shawahi, Zat al- Dawahi, to the host of the Moslems. Know ye that I entered your country and duped by my cunning your nobles and at first hand I slew your King Omar bin al-Nu'uman in the midst of his palace. Moreover, I slew, in the affair of the mountain pass and of the cave, many of your men; and the last I killed were Sharrkan and his servants. And if fortune do not stay me and Satan obey me, I needs must slay me your Sultan and the Wazir Dandan, for I am she who came to you in disguise of a Recluse and who heaped upon you my devices and deceits. Wherefore, an you would be in safety after this, fare ye forth at once; and if you seek your own destruction cease not abiding for the nonce; and though ye tarry here years and years, ye shall not do your desire on us. And so peace be yours!\"<|Q|> After writing her writ she devoted three days to mourning for King Hardub; arid, on the fourth, she called a Knight and bade him take the letter and make it fast to a shaft and shoot it into the Moslem camp. When this was done, she entered the church and gave herself up to weeping and |0|wailing|0| for the loss of her son, saying to him who took the kingship after him, \"Nothing will serve me but I must kill Zau al-Makan and all the nobles of Al-Islam"}, {"idx": 9314, "candidates": {"0": "murmured"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"I do not care for fashion, I would offer the last mark of respect and affection to the husband who was my dearest and truest friend upon this earth, and without whom the earth is very desolate for me. If the dead pass at once into those heavenly regions were Divine Wisdom reigns supreme over all mortal weakness, the emancipated spirit of him who goes to his tomb this day knows that my love, my faith, never faltered. If I had wronged him as the world believes, Mr. Ashburne, I must, indeed, be the most hardened of wretches to insult the dead by my presence. Accept my determination as a proof of my innocence, if you can.\"\n\n<|Q|>\"The question of your guilt or innocence is a dark enigma which I cannot take upon myself to solve, Lady Eversleigh,\"<|Q|> answered Gilbert Ashburne, gravely. \"It would be an unspeakable relief to my mind if I could think you innocent. Unhappily, circumstances combine to condemn you in such a manner that even Christian charity can scarcely admit the possibility of your innocence.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" |0|murmured|0| the widow, sadly, \"I am the victim of a plot so skilfully devised, so subtly woven, that I can scarcely wonder if the world refuses to believe me guiltless. And yet you see that honourable soldier, that brave and true-hearted gentleman, Captain Copplestone, does not think me the wretch I seem to be."}, {"idx": 42501, "candidates": {"0": "muttered"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "He shambled into the room, a huge, hulking figure of a man, with the thickness of chest which, under happier circumstances, might have made him a terror in the prize-ring. His features wore a heavy scowl, which slowly cleared to a flicker of recognition.\n\n<|Q|>\"By God, it's the lawyer-chap,\"<|Q|> he |0|muttered|0|.\n\nI pointed to the glass of champagne."}, {"idx": 16240, "candidates": {"0": "beg"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"I will allow nothing of the kind, George. I will allow nothing that can imply the slightest stain upon my name or upon your honour. Captain De Baron is my friend. I like him very much. A great many people know how intimate we are. They shall never be taught to suppose that there was anything wrong in that intimacy. They shall never, at any rate, be taught so by anything that I will do. I will admit nothing. I will do nothing myself to show that I am ashamed. Of course you can take me into the country; of course you can lock me up if you like; of course you can tell all your friends that I have misbehaved myself; you can listen to calumny against me from everybody; but if you do I will have one friend to protect me, and I will tell papa everything.\" Then she walked away to the door as though she were leaving the room.\n\n<|Q|>\"Stop a moment,\"<|Q|> he said. Then she stood with her hand still on the lock, as though intending to stay merely till he should have spoken some last word to her. He was greatly surprised by her strength and resolution, and now hardly knew what more to say to her. He could not |0|beg|0| her pardon for his suspicion; he could not tell her that she was right; and yet he found it impossible to assert that she was wrong. \"I do not think that passion will do any good,\" he said.\n\n\"I do not know what will do any good. I know what I feel.\""}, {"idx": 9485, "candidates": {"0": "announced"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"I -- I -- know I do, Hortie.\"\n\n<|Q|>\"Ah, that is better. And I love you, Sylvia. Loving you is an old, old story with me -- a sort of habit. I shall never change. You are too much a part of me, Sylvia. Now pay the boatman and you shall go. One is too cheap. Two is miserly. The fare is three. I won't take less.\"<|Q|>\n\n\"I consider your methods despicable,\" |0|announced|0| the girl when at last he reluctantly put her down on her feet."}, {"idx": 78418, "candidates": {"0": "faltered"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "Razumov entered the grounds and walked fast up the wide sweep of the drive, trying to think of nothing -- to rest his head, to rest his emotions too. But arriving at the foot of the terrace before the house he |0|faltered|0|, affected physically by some invisible interference. The mysteriousness of his quickened heart-beats startled him. He stopped short and looked at the brick wall of the terrace, faced with shallow arches, meagrely clothed by a few unthriving creepers, with an ill-kept narrow flower-bed along its foot.\n\n\u201cIt is here!\u201d he thought, with a sort of awe. <|Q|>\u201cIt is here -- on this very spot....\u201d<|Q|>\n\nHe was tempted to flight at the mere recollection of his first meeting with Nathalie Haldin. He confessed it to himself; but he did not move, and that not because he wished to resist an unworthy weakness, but because he knew that he had no place to fly to. Moreover, he could not leave Geneva. He recognized, even without thinking, that it was impossible. It would have been a fatal admission, an act of moral suicide. It would have been also physically dangerous. Slowly he ascended the stairs of the terrace, flanked by two stained greenish stone urns of funereal aspect."}, {"idx": 20027, "candidates": {"0": "whispering"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "He answers slowly, almost |0|whispering|0|: \u2014 \n\n<|Q|>\u201cYour fathers came from the ancient Christian world. My fathers came from the more ancient Buddhist world. Christ is my master but I cannot deny that Buddha is my friend. This is the hour for friends. Come with me.\u201d<|Q|> We walk north on Mulberry Boulevard, past the House of the Man from Singapore, and then west on Carpenter toward a little highway that finally joins the great Northwest Road. But we have not gone far on the Great Northwest Road till we flash past the Gothic double walls of our city.\n\nThe Thibetan Boy takes me, in one instant, to the far edge of Space and Time, way beyond the North Star and its dandelions. And as we stand on the shaking shore of Space and Time we see and hear, rolling in from Chaos, endless smoke and glory and darkness and dissolving foam. Standing beside us, like a superb Gandhara sculpture that has taken on life is that Prince Siddhartha who was the founder of Buddhism. He stands in that aspect he had, while still a citizen and householder, and twenty-four centuries before his green glass libel cursed mankind."}, {"idx": 7863, "candidates": {"0": "laughed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"We're in luck, Dave,\" he said. \"I'm going to Minneapolis, too. I'm afraid of a lot of things. What are you afraid of?\"\n\nThe small fry's jutting lip trembled. \"Earth,\" he said. <|Q|>\"A great big planet. Hoppers tell me I won't even be able to stand up or breathe.\"<|Q|>\n\nNelsen very nearly |0|laughed|0| and went into hiccups, again. Fantastic. Another viewpoint. Seeing through the other end of the telescope. But how else would it be for a youngster born in the Belt, while being sent -- in the old colonial pattern -- to the place that his parents regarded as home?"}, {"idx": 67157, "candidates": {"0": "exclaim"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "As has already been said, Mr. Summerfield had had five art directors in almost as many years. In each case he had used the Napoleonic method of throwing a fresh, unwearied mind into the breach of difficulty, and when it wearied or broke under the strain, tossing it briskly out. There was no compunction or pity connected with any detail of this method. \"I hire good men and I pay them good wages,\" was his favorite comment. \"Why shouldn't I expect good results?\" If he was wearied or angered by failure he was prone to |0|exclaim|0| -- <|Q|>\"These Goddamned cattle of artists! What can you expect of them? They don't know anything outside their little theory of how things ought to look. They don't know anything about life. Why, God damn it, they're like a lot of children. Why should anybody pay any attention to what they think? Who cares what they think? They give me a pain in the neck.\"<|Q|> Mr. Daniel C. Summerfield was very much given to swearing, more as a matter of habit than of foul intention, and no picture of him would be complete without the interpolation of his favorite expressions.\n\nWhen Eugene appeared on the horizon as a possible applicant for this delightful position, Mr. Daniel C. Summerfield was debating with himself just what he should do in connection with the two new contracts in question. The advertisers were awaiting his suggestions eagerly. One was for the nation-wide advertising of a new brand of sugar, the second for the international display of ideas in connection with a series of French perfumes, the sale of which depended largely upon the beauty with which they could be interpreted to the lay mind. The latter were not only to be advertised in the United States and Canada, but in Mexico also, and the fulfilment of the contracts in either case was dependent upon the approval given by the advertisers to the designs for newspaper, car and billboard advertising which he should submit. It was a ticklish business, worth two hundred thousand dollars in ultimate profits, and naturally he was anxious that the man who should sit in the seat of authority in his art department should be one of real force and talent -- a genius if possible, who should, through his ideas, help him win his golden harvest."}, {"idx": 90056, "candidates": {"0": "murmuring", "1": "argued"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "I remember I sat up in the darkness staring at it.\n\nI found myself |0|murmuring|0|: <|Q|>\"Get the proportions of things, get the proportions of things!\"<|Q|> I had an absurd impression of a duel between myself and the cavernous antagonism of the huge black spaces below me. I |1|argued|1| that all this pain and waste was no more than the selvedge of a proportionately limitless fabric of sane, interested, impassioned and joyous living. These stiff still memories seemed to refute me. But why us? they seemed to insist. In some way it's essential, -- this margin. I stopped at that.\n\n\"If all this pain, waste, violence, anguish is essential to life, why does my spirit rise against it? What is wrong with me"}, {"idx": 63776, "candidates": {"0": "assure"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "Esther began to tremble a little, as she always did when the love-talk between them seemed getting serious. She only gave the rather stumbling answer, \"How so?\"\n\n<|Q|>\"Harry's mother had been a slave -- was bought, in fact.\"<|Q|>\n\nIt was impossible for Harold to preconceive the effect this had on Esther. His natural disqualification for judging of a girl's feelings was heightened by the blinding effect of an exclusive object -- which was to |0|assure|0| her that her own place was peculiar and supreme. Hitherto Esther's acquaintance with oriental love was derived chiefly from Byronic poems, and this had not sufficed to adjust her mind to a new story, where the Giaour concerned was giving her his arm. She was unable to speak; and Harold went on -- "}, {"idx": 8893, "candidates": {"0": "wept"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u2018You forget, my love,\u2019 said Mr. Pickwick gently, \u2018you forget that I am a prisoner.\u2019\n\n\u2018No, indeed I do not, my dear Sir,\u2019 replied Arabella. <|Q|>\u2018I never have forgotten it. I have never ceased to think how great your sufferings must have been in this shocking place. But I hoped that what no consideration for yourself would induce you to do, a regard to our happiness might. If my brother hears of this, first, from you, I feel certain we shall be reconciled. He is my only relation in the world, Mr. Pickwick, and unless you plead for me, I fear I have lost even him. I have done wrong, very, very wrong, I know.\u2019<|Q|> Here poor Arabella hid her face in her handkerchief, and |0|wept|0| bitterly.\n\nMr. Pickwick\u2019s nature was a good deal worked upon, by these same tears; but when Mrs. Winkle, drying her eyes, took to coaxing and entreating in the sweetest tones of a very sweet voice, he became particularly restless, and evidently undecided how to act, as was evinced by sundry nervous rubbings of his spectacle-glasses, nose, tights, head, and gaiters."}, {"idx": 92366, "candidates": {"0": "admitting"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "After a while she made some sort of an acquaintance with a sergeant who had a few words of French and appeared anxious to improve his knowledge of the language. He explained that he had been a teacher in what corresponded to the French Ecoles Normales. He came from Birmingham, which he gave her to understand was a glorified Lille. She found him very earnest, very self-centred in his worship of efficiency. As he had striven for his class of boys, so now was he striving for his platoon of men. In a dogmatic way he expounded to her ideals severely practical. In their few casual conversations he interested her. The English, from the first terrible day of their association with her, had commanded her deep admiration. But until lately -- in the most recent past -- her sex, her national aloofness and her ignorance of English, had restrained her from familiar talk with the British Army. But now she keenly desired to understand this strange, imperturbable, kindly race. She put many questions to the sergeant -- always at the kitchen door, in full view of the courtyard, for she never thought of |0|admitting|0| him into the house -- and his answers, even when he managed to make himself intelligible, puzzled her exceedingly. One of his remarks led her to ask for what he was fighting, beyond his apparently fixed idea of the efficiency of the men under his control. What was the spiritual idea at the back of him?\n\n<|Q|>\"The democratization of the world and the universal brotherhood of mankind.\"<|Q|>\n\n\"When the British Lion shall lie down with the German Lamb?\""}, {"idx": 105713, "candidates": {"0": "exclaimed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "And here the ex-preacher entered the field, and there was a lively tussle. \u201cComrade\u201d Lucas was not what is called an educated man; he knew only the Bible, but it was the Bible interpreted by real experience. And what was the use, he asked, of confusing Religion with men\u2019s perversions of it? That the church was in the hands of the merchants at the moment was obvious enough; but already there were signs of rebellion, and if Comrade Schliemann could come back a few years from now \u2014 \n\n\u201cAh, yes,\u201d said the other, <|Q|>\u201cof course, I have no doubt that in a hundred years the Vatican will be denying that it ever opposed Socialism, just as at present it denies that it ever tortured Galileo.\u201d<|Q|>\n\n\u201cI am not defending the Vatican,\u201d |0|exclaimed|0| Lucas, vehemently. \u201cI am defending the word of God \u2014 which is one long cry of the human spirit for deliverance from the sway of oppression. Take the twenty-fourth chapter of the Book of Job, which I am accustomed to quote in my addresses as \u2018the Bible upon the Beef Trust\u2019; or take the words of Isaiah \u2014 or of the Master himself! Not the elegant prince of our debauched and vicious art, not the jeweled idol of our society churches \u2014 but the Jesus of the awful reality, the man of sorrow and pain, the outcast, despised of the world, who had nowhere to lay his head \u2014 \u201d"}, {"idx": 33670, "candidates": {"0": "whispered"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "\u201cAre they very beautiful? They must be.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not know,\u201d he |0|whispered|0|, thoughtfully. <|Q|>\u201cAnd if I ever did know, looking at you I have forgotten.\u201d<|Q|>\n\n\u201cForgotten! And for three days and two nights you have forgotten me also! Why? Why were you angry with me when I spoke at first of Tuan Abdulla, in the days when we lived beside the brook? You remembered somebody then. Somebody in the land whence you come. Your tongue is false. You are white indeed, and your heart is full of deception. I know it. And yet I cannot help believing you when you talk of your love for me. But I am afraid!\u201d"}, {"idx": 81316, "candidates": {"0": "complained"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "Then she folded the letter and committed it to the old woman, who took it and returning to Taj al-Muluk, gave it to him. When he read it, he knew that the Princess was hard hearted and that he should not win access to her; so he |0|complained|0| of his case to the Wazir and besought his counsel. Quoth the Minister, \"Know thou that naught will profit thee save that thou write to her and invoke the retribution of Heaven upon her.\" And quoth the Prince, <|Q|>\"O my brother, O Aziz, do thou write to her as if my tongue spake, according to thy knowledge.\"<|Q|> So Aziz took a paper and wrote these couplets,\n\n\"By the Five Shaykhs,[FN#38] O Lord, I pray deliver me; * Let her for whom I suffer bear like misery: Thou knowest how I fry in flaming lowe of love, * While she I love hath naught of ruth or clemency: How long shall I, despite my pain, her feelings spare? * How long shall she wreak tyranny o'er weakling me? In pains of never ceasing death I ever grieve: * O Lord, deign aid; none other helping hand I see. How fain would I forget her and forget her love! * But how forget when Love garred Patience death to dree? O thou who hinderest Love to 'joy fair meeting tide * Say! art thou safe from Time and Fortune's jealousy? Art thou not glad and blest with happy life, while I * From folk and country for thy love am doomed flee?\""}, {"idx": 86086, "candidates": {"0": "sighed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "They both would have been, if not shocked, at least brought to a sense of actual things, had they seen the transports to which the lovers surrendered themselves as soon as the door of the den closed behind them. Many hundreds of millions of youthful pairs have done exactly the same after long separation. She threw herself into his arms, in which he enfolded her. They kissed and |0|sighed|0|. They had thought they would never be alone again. He had been thirsting for her lips all the tantalizing evening. That wonderful brain of hers \u2014 to suggest this visit to his room. Even if the idea had occurred to his dull masculine mind, he wouldn\u2019t have had the daring to tender the invitation. Her ever new adorableness! And more kisses and raptures, until, side by side in the corner of the couch, they began to talk of rational matters.\n\n\u201cThere are great things brewing,\u201d she said, after a while. <|Q|>\u201cJust a whisper has reached me \u2014 enough to make it dangerous.\u201d<|Q|>\n\n\u201cWhat things do you refer to?\u201d he asked, with a quick knitting of the brow."}, {"idx": 26367, "candidates": {"0": "assure"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "\" said Nina, \"that love order dearly, but don't want the trouble of it myself. My prime minister, Aunt Katy, thanks to mamma, is an excellent hand to keep it, and I encourage her in it with all my heart; so that any part of the house where I don't go much is in beautiful order. But, bless me, I should have to be made over again before I could do like Aunt Nesbit! Did you ever see her take a pair of gloves or a collar out of a drawer? She gets up, and walks so moderately across the room, takes the key from under the napkin on the right-hand side of the bureau, and unlocks the drawer, as gravely as though she was going to offer a sacrifice. Then, if her gloves are at the back side, underneath something else, she takes out one thing after another, so moderately; and then, when the gloves or collar are found, lays everything back exactly where it was before, locks the drawer, and puts the key back under the towel. And all this she'd do if anybody was dying, and she had to go for the doctor! The consequence is, that her room, her drawers, and everything, are a standing sermon to me. But I think I've got to be a much calmer person than I am, before this will come to pass in my case. I'm always in such a breeze and flutter! I fly to my drawer, and scatter things into little whirlwinds; ribbons, scarf, flowers -- everything flies out in a perfect rainbow. It seems as if I should die if I didn't get the thing I wanted that minute; and, after two or three such attacks on a drawer, then comes repentance, and a long time of rolling up and arranging, and talking to little naughty Nina, who always promises herself to keep better order in future. But, my dear, she doesn't do it, I'm sorry to say, as yet, though perhaps there are hopes of her in future. Tell me, Anne, -- you are not stiff and 'poky,' and yet you seem to be endowed with the gift of order. How did it come about?\"\n\n<|Q|>\"It was not natural to me, I |0|assure|0| you,\"<|Q|> said Anne. \"It was a second nature, drilled into me by mamma.\"\n\n\"Mamma! ah, indeed!\" said Nina, giving a sigh. \"Then you are very happy! But, come, now, Lettice, I've done with all these; take them away. My tea-table has risen out of them like the world out of chaos,\" she said, as she swept together a heap of rejected vines, leaves, and flowers. \"Ah! I always have a repenting turn, when I've done arranging vases, to think I've picked so many more than were necessary! The poor flowers droop their leaves, and look at me reproachfully, as if they said, 'You didn't want us -- why couldn't you have left us alone?'\""}, {"idx": 80862, "candidates": {"0": "whistled"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "There was a subtle hint of withdrawal in her tone. I was afraid that I had offended her. After all, why not tell her of the stranger who had so startled me?\n\n<|Q|>\"Look over by the door, Lillian,\"<|Q|> I said, in a low voice, \"not suddenly as if I had just spoken to you about it, but carelessly. Tell me if there is a man still standing there staring at us.\"\n\nLillian |0|whistled|0| softly beneath her breath, a little trick she has when surprised."}, {"idx": 42272, "candidates": {"0": "cheering"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201d which the infidel doctor had recommended. I instantly covered them from sight with two of my own precious publications. In the breakfast-room I found my aunt\u2019s favourite canary singing in his cage. She was always in the habit of feeding the bird herself. Some groundsel was strewed on a table which stood immediately under the cage. I put a book among the groundsel. In the drawing-room I found more |0|cheering|0| opportunities of emptying my bag. My aunt\u2019s favourite musical pieces were on the piano. I slipped in two more books among the music. I disposed of another in the back drawing-room, under some unfinished embroidery, which I knew to be of Lady Verinder\u2019s working. A third little room opened out of the back drawing-room, from which it was shut off by curtains instead of a door. My aunt\u2019s plain old-fashioned fan was on the chimney-piece. I opened my ninth book at a very special passage, and put the fan in as a marker, to keep the place. The question then came, whether I should go higher still, and try the bedroom floor \u2014 at the risk, undoubtedly, of being insulted, if the person with the cap-ribbons happened to be in the upper regions of the house, and to find me out. But oh, what of that? It is a poor Christian that is afraid of being insulted. I went upstairs, prepared to bear anything. All was silent and solitary \u2014 it was the servants\u2019 tea-time, I suppose. My aunt\u2019s room was in front. The miniature of my late dear uncle, Sir John, hung on the wall opposite the bed. It seemed to smile at me; it seemed to say, <|Q|>\u201cDrusilla! deposit a book.\u201d<|Q|> There were tables on either side of my aunt\u2019s bed. She was a bad sleeper, and wanted, or thought she wanted, many things at night. I put a book near the matches on one side, and a book under the box of chocolate drops on the other. Whether she wanted a light, or whether she wanted a drop, there was a precious publication to meet her eye, or to meet her hand, and to say with silent eloquence, in either case, \u201cCome, try me! try me"}, {"idx": 57912, "candidates": {"0": "exclaimed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "When a curious chance and combination of events first brought me to acquaintance with her she was in the very height of her practice. Carriages crowded daily in Dover Street where, with her mother, she had rooms -- and it was the thing to consult her. Yet, until I dined casually one night with Colonel Oldfield, the collector of cat's-eyes, and Bracebridge, at the Bohemian Club, hard by her house, I had never heard of her. The conversation turned during the soup -- when talk is always watery -- upon the press of broughams in the street without, and Oldfield mentioned her history to me, and the surprising nature of many things she had told him.\n\n<|Q|>\"It is easy enough,\"<|Q|> said he, \"to look at a man's hand and deduce scarlet-fever and measles somewhere between two and twelve years of age; but when a woman tells you calmly that you were ready to die for two other women at the age of one-and-twenty, it's a thing to make you pause.\"\n\n\"Which I hope you did,\" |0|exclaimed|0| Bracebridge. \"Love is distinctly a matter for specialization.\""}, {"idx": 56124, "candidates": {"0": "muttered", "1": "panting"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "But as he ran along that lane, and as his mental faculties regained their normality Brent himself did some piecing together. Every word of Krevin Crood's statement had bitten itself into his intelligence. Now he could reconstruct. It seemed to him that he visualized the Mayor's Parlour on that fateful evening. An angry, disillusioned, nerve-racked man, sore and restive under the fancy, or, rather, the realization of deceit, saying bitter and contemptuous words; a desperate, defeated woman, cornered like a rat -- and close to her hand the rapier, lying on the old chest where its purchaser had carelessly flung it. A maddened thing, man or woman, would snatch that up, and -- -- \n\n<|Q|>\"Blind, uncontrollable impulse!\"<|Q|> |0|muttered|0| Brent. \"She struck at him, at him -- and then it was all over. Intentional, no! Yet ... the law! But, by God, I won't have a hand in hanging ... a woman! Time?\"\n\nHe knew the exact location of the door in the garden wall of the Abbey House and presently he ran up to it, |1|panting|1| from his swift dash along the lane. Not five minutes had elapsed then since his slip out of the excited court. But every second of the coming minutes was precious. And the door was locked."}, {"idx": 34251, "candidates": {"0": "laughing"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201cYes, he too needs special consideration,\u201d the mother added. \u201cPlease promise me always to treat him affectionately. He will stand in such need of it, especially when I am no more.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut for heaven\u2019s sake, Alida, do not think of such a thing, and let us never say another word about it!\u201d Mr. Thornau cried out. <|Q|>\u201cI\u2019ll start right off to settle this new law-suit. I shall walk there, because the road is charming. It will take two hours, but I\u2019ll probably take a carriage back.\u201d<|Q|>\n\nMr. Thornau was quietly chuckling to himself as he strolled down the mountain. He clearly recollected the last case he had had to arbitrate. Alida, while practicing, had rather urgently banged the innocent keys to make them feel how little to her taste it was to have to spend her time with them. Miss Landrat had given her a well-earned scolding, but had unfortunately grown violently angry. Suddenly Alida had pressed both hands on her mouth to keep herself from bursting out |0|laughing|0|."}, {"idx": 105975, "candidates": {"0": "whispered"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201cCertainly,\u201d answered Mrs. Channing. \u201cIn six months from this, James, you may be as well and active as ever.\u201d\n\nMr. Channing raised his hands, as if warding off the words. Not of the words was he afraid, but of the hopes they |0|whispered|0|. <|Q|>\u201cI think too much about it, already, Mary. It is not as though I were sure of getting to the medicinal baths.\u201d<|Q|>\n\n\u201cWe will take care that you do that, sir,\u201d said Hamish, with his sunny smile."}, {"idx": 55882, "candidates": {"0": "murmured"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "Not often, indeed, had Jean Marie Latour come so near to the Fountain of all Pity as in the Lady Chapel that night; the pity that no man born of woman could ever utterly cut himself off from; that was for the murderer on the scaffold, as it was for the dying soldier or the martyr on the rack. The beautiful concept of Mary pierced the priest's heart like a sword.\n\n<|Q|>\"O Sacred Heart of Mary!\"<|Q|> she |0|murmured|0| by his side, and he felt how that name was food and raiment, friend and mother to her. He received the miracle in her heart into his own, saw through her eyes, knew that his poverty was as bleak as hers. When the Kingdom of Heaven had first come into the world, into a cruel world of torture and slaves and masters, He who brought it had said, \"And whosoever is least among you, the same shall be first in the Kingdom of Heaven"}, {"idx": 69701, "candidates": {"0": "sobbed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"Why didn't you tell us before that it was he?\" |0|sobbed|0| Polly, with joyful tears running over her face. Davie, coming out of his gloomy walk, turned a happy face towards the old man's chair, while Ben said something to himself that sounded like \"Thank God!\"\n\nPhronsie alone remained unmoved. <|Q|>\"What is Dr. Fisher going to do?\"<|Q|> she asked presently, amid the chatter that now broke forth.\n\n\"He's going to live here,\" said old Mr. King, looking down at her, and smoothing her yellow hair. \"Won't that be nice, Phronsie?\""}, {"idx": 72611, "candidates": {"0": "assure"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201cAh! I\u2019m afraid that what I feel will make me forget my manners!\u201d\n\n<|Q|>\u201cThen I hope you\u2019ll never have any, if you lack them only for that cause.\u201d<|Q|> After some broken words which Henchard lost she added, \u201cAre you sure you won\u2019t be jealous?\u201d\n\nFarfrae seemed to |0|assure|0| her that he would not, by taking her hand."}, {"idx": 53985, "candidates": {"0": "exclaimed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "\u201cAnd if I did, (which, however, I am far from allowing) I should not feel that I had done wrong. Mr. Martin is a very respectable young man, but I cannot admit him to be Harriet\u2019s equal; and am rather surprized indeed that he should have ventured to address her. By your account, he does seem to have had some scruples. It is a pity that they were ever got over.\u201d\n\n<|Q|>\u201cNot Harriet\u2019s equal!\u201d<|Q|> |0|exclaimed|0| Mr. Knightley loudly and warmly; and with calmer asperity, added, a few moments afterwards, \u201cNo, he is not her equal indeed, for he is as much her superior in sense as in situation. Emma, your infatuation about that girl blinds you. What are Harriet Smith\u2019s claims, either of birth, nature or education, to any connexion higher than Robert Martin? She is the natural daughter of nobody knows whom, with probably no settled provision at all, and certainly no respectable relations. She is known only as parlour-boarder at a common school. She is not a sensible girl, nor a girl of any information. She has been taught nothing useful, and is too young and too simple to have acquired any thing herself. At her age she can have no experience, and with her little wit, is not very likely ever to have any that can avail her. She is pretty, and she is good tempered, and that is all. My only scruple in advising the match was on his account, as being beneath his deserts, and a bad connexion for him. I felt that, as to fortune, in all probability he might do much better; and that as to a rational companion or useful helpmate, he could not do worse. But I could not reason so to a man in love, and was willing to trust to there being no harm in her, to her having that sort of disposition, which, in good hands, like his, might be easily led aright and turn out very well. The advantage of the match I felt to be all on her side; and had not the smallest doubt (nor have I now) that there would be a general cry-out upon her extreme good luck. Even your satisfaction I made sure of. It crossed my mind immediately that you would not regret your friend\u2019s leaving Highbury, for the sake of her being settled so well. I remember saying to myself, \u2018Even Emma, with all her partiality for Harriet, will think this a good match.\u2019\u201d"}, {"idx": 14827, "candidates": {"0": "murmured"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201cFrancis dear,\u201d she confessed, \u201cI am afraid you are right. I cannot even look towards The Walled House without wondering why it was built -- or catch a glimpse of that dome without stupid guesses as to what may go on underneath.\u201d\n\n<|Q|>\u201cI think very likely,\u201d<|Q|> he said soothingly, \u201cwe have both exaggerated the seriousness of your father's hobbies. We know that he has a wonderful gymnasium there, but the only definite rumour I have ever heard about the place is that men fight there who have a grudge against one another, and that they are not too particular about the weight of the gloves. That doesn't appeal to us, you know, Margaret, but it isn't criminal.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf that were all!\u201d she |0|murmured|0|."}, {"idx": 107581, "candidates": {"0": "shouted"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "All this took some little time, even while the trio were working as men only can when dear life is at stake; but the flying-machine was afloat and fairly off upon the most marvellous journey mortals ever accomplished, and that ere yonder death-balloon could cover half the distance between.\n\n\u201cGrand! Glorious! Magnificent!\u201d fairly exploded the professor, when he could risk a more comprehensive look, right hand tightly gripping the polished lever through which he controlled that admirable mechanism. <|Q|>\u201cI have longed for just such an opportunity, and now -- the camera, Bruno! We must never neglect to improve such a marvellous chance for -- get out the camera, lad!\u201d<|Q|>\n\n\u201cGet out of the road, rather!\u201d bluntly |0|shouted|0| Waldo, face unusually pale, as he stared at yonder awful force in action. \u201cOf course I'm not scared, or anything like that, uncle Phaeton, but -- I want to rack out o' this just about the quickest the law allows! Yes, I DO, now!\u201d"}, {"idx": 12481, "candidates": {"0": "exclaimed", "1": "wailing"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201cNothing of the sort. Put your hat straight and take my arm. I\u2019ll see you through.\u201d\n\n<|Q|>\u201cAh, thank God, he comes,\u201d<|Q|> the Inspector |0|exclaimed|0|. They emerged into the midday heat, arm in arm. The station was seething. Passengers and porters rushed out of every recess, many Government servants, more police. Ronny escorted Mrs. Moore. Mohammed Latif began |1|wailing|1|. And before they could make their way through the chaos, Fielding was called off by the authoritative tones of Mr. Turton, and Aziz went on to prison alone.\n\nCHAPTER XVII"}, {"idx": 29252, "candidates": {"0": "exclaimed", "1": "sighed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201cAnother!\u201d I |0|exclaimed|0|. \u201cIs the Greek going to die?\u201d\n\n<|Q|>\u201cNo fear. I\u2019ll have him steering in a few days. I refer to the misfits. If we rolled a dozen of them together they wouldn\u2019t make one real man. I\u2019m not saying it to alarm you, for there\u2019s nothing alarming about it; but we\u2019re going to have proper hell this voyage.\u201d<|Q|> He broke off to stare reflectively at his broken knuckles, as if estimating how much drive was left in them, then |1|sighed|1| and concluded, \u201cWell, I can see I\u2019ve got my work cut out for me.\u201d\n\nSympathizing with Mr. Pike is futile; the only effect is to make his mood blacker. I tried it, and he retaliated with:"}, {"idx": 105734, "candidates": {"0": "begging"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u2018Yes. Go on.\u2019\n\n<|Q|>\u2018\u201cArticulator of human bones.\u201d\u2019<|Q|>\n\n\u2018That\u2019s it,\u2019 with a groan. \u2018That\u2019s it! Mr Wegg, I\u2019m thirty-two, and a bachelor. Mr Wegg, I love her. Mr Wegg, she is worthy of being loved by a Potentate!\u2019 Here Silas is rather alarmed by Mr Venus\u2019s springing to his feet in the hurry of his spirits, and haggardly confronting him with his hand on his coat collar; but Mr Venus, |0|begging|0| pardon, sits down again, saying, with the calmness of despair, \u2018She objects to the business.\u2019"}, {"idx": 67757, "candidates": {"0": "exclaimed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "A few gentlemen had also arrived: Count de Gandry, who looked like a hair-dresser and was suspected of carrying on a covert business as dealer in antiquities; M. Dieudonn\u00e9 Crespigny de Bellancourt, a square-built French diplomatist, the son of a butcher and son-in-law to a duke, etc., etc. The latest bankruptcy, the climate of Rome, the excavations, were all discussed. Madame de Gandry and Mrs. Ferguson submitted at first to the tedium of a general conversation, but contrived at the same time to attract as much of the men's attention as was possible under the circumstances. Soon after eleven the Countess Ilsenbergh came in; she had come from a grand dinner and looked bored to death.\n\n\"It really is absurd how one meets every one in Rome,\" she said presently, when she had been questioned as to the how and where of the party she had just quitted. <|Q|>\"Who do you think I came across to-day, Marie? -- That Lenz girl from Vienna; now she is a duchess or a Countess Montidor -- Heaven knows which; once, years ago, I had something to do with a charity sale she got up, so now she comes up to me as if I were an old acquaintance and pretends to be intimate, talks of 'we Austrians,' and 'at home at Vienna.' -- Amusing, rather?\"<|Q|>\n\n\"Poor Fritzi! I feel for you!\" |0|exclaimed|0| Sempaly with a malicious laugh. \"But there is a greater treat in store for you. The Sterzl women, mother and sister, are coming in a few days.\""}, {"idx": 107110, "candidates": {"0": "exclaimed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "Still, it was evident to M. Popeau that the person now standing before him was what is called, in common parlance, a woman of the world. She accepted his explanation of his presence with amiability, and expressed in well-chosen, voluble French her gratitude for his kindness to her young niece \u2014 he noticed she said \u201cniece.\u201d\n\n<|Q|>\u201cIt is still to be Aunt Cosy, is it not, dear child?\u201d<|Q|> she drew the surprised Lily affectionately into her strong arms and kissed her on both cheeks. \u201cIt will be very pleasant, very delightful, to me and to my husband to have a young and charming girl about the house!\u201d she |0|exclaimed|0|. \u201cWe are no longer young \u2014 and the war has made us very lonely \u2014 \u2014 \u201d She shook her head sadly. \u201cNo one would believe how it changed Monte Carlo for a while. But now our old friends \u2014 English, French, Italian \u2014 are beginning to return. Already the war is being forgotten like a nightmare, a bad dream.\u201d"}, {"idx": 71580, "candidates": {"0": "screamed", "1": "shrieked"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"Watch by this hole until I get back, and do not let Rabbit get away.\" So Owl came down and sat by the hole and promised to keep guard over the prisoner, and Wolf went away to look for his axe.\n\nBut Rabbit was not caught yet; he had another trick left. After Wolf had gone away, he called to Owl sitting by the hole, and said, \"Owl, come and see what a nice little room I have here in the tree.\" But Owl replied, <|Q|>\"It is too dark, I cannot see.\"<|Q|> Then Rabbit said, \"Open your eyes wide and put your face close to the hole, for I have a light here and you can see easily.\" Owl did as he was told, for he was a curious fellow. Rabbit had a great mouthful of tobacco juice from the Indian tobacco leaves he had been chewing, and when Owl put his face close to the hole he squirted the juice into Owl's eyes. Owl |0|screamed|0| loudly, for his eyes were smarting and he was blinded by the juice; he ran around the tree and stamped and |1|shrieked|1| and rubbed his eyes, trying to relieve them of their pain. And while he was about it, Rabbit slipped out of the hole and ran away, and Owl did not know he was gone."}, {"idx": 104307, "candidates": {"0": "sing"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "It was coming on for closing time and I was making ready to go. I\u2019d cleared up all my little belongings, and was standing by the switchboard pressing the tray cloth careful into my satchel, when I heard a step stop at the door and a cheerful voice |0|sing|0| out:\n\n<|Q|>\"Just in the nick of time. Spreading her wings ready for flight.\"<|Q|>\n\nThere in the doorway, filling it up with his big shape, was Tony Ford. For the first moment I got a sort of setback. Mightn\u2019t anyone \u2014 thinking of home and husband and finding yourself face to face with a gunman?"}, {"idx": 40175, "candidates": {"0": "snapped"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"This younker is grumbling about the red lead cement,\" |0|snapped|0| the irate foreman.\n\n<|Q|>\"What's the complaint, Benson?\"<|Q|> asked the boatyard owner.\n\n\"No complaint, Mr. Farnum,\" Jack answered, quickly. \"Only, I've got to make the joint fast with red lead cement, and it seemed to me that this stuff is too dry. If I use it, it won't fill out smoothly enough. It's dry and crumbly, and I'm afraid the joint would be very defective.\""}, {"idx": 74677, "candidates": {"0": "exclaimed", "1": "announced"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201cYes.\u201d Vera\u2019s cold hands closed convulsively over the chair back against which she was leaning. \u201cDorothy was honest with him, Mrs. Porter.\u201d\n\n\u201cPoor Hugh!\u201d |0|exclaimed|0| Mrs. Porter, her eyes filling with tears. <|Q|>\u201cHe loves her devotedly.\u201d<|Q|>\n\nMitchell moved impatiently. \u201cMiss Deane, I want your full attention,\u201d he |1|announced|1| brusquely. \u201cYou have asserted that Bruce Brainard committed suicide. Where did he get the razor?\u201d"}, {"idx": 23725, "candidates": {"0": "wailing"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"No blurry use t'me if no money,\" and she went on with her damnable singing, like a lost soul |0|wailing|0| for its natural hell.\n\nThe Boss came in from the kitchen. \"Twinetoes? Damned funny moniker! Never 'eerd it,\" he said. <|Q|>\"But there's a bloke asleep upstairs as calls 'isself Brum. Mebbe it's 'im.\"<|Q|>\n\nIt was. Twinetoes lay in his navvy clobber on a dirty bed, drunk, dead to the world. We could not rouse him."}, {"idx": 19057, "candidates": {"0": "laughed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "\u201cD\u2019you see that aigrette there? That cost every bit of seven guineas.\u201d\n\nOr: \u201cLook at that ermine, Philip. That\u2019s rabbit, that is \u2014 that\u2019s not ermine.\u201d She |0|laughed|0| triumphantly. <|Q|>\u201cI\u2019d know it a mile off.\u201d<|Q|>\n\nPhilip smiled happily. He was glad to see her pleasure, and the ingenuousness of her conversation amused and touched him. The band played sentimental music."}, {"idx": 115058, "candidates": {"0": "laughed", "1": "sobbed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\", \"1\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201cThe train,\u201d she cried in a choking voice. \u201cWhere is it?\u201d\n\n\u201cIn little pieces -- down in Mad River.\u201d He |0|laughed|0| happily. <|Q|>\u201cAnd the logs weren't even mine! As for the trucks, they were a lot of ratty antiques and only fit to haul Cardigan's logs. About a hundred yards of roadbed ruined -- that's the extent of my loss, for I'd charged off the trucks to profit and loss two years ago.\u201d<|Q|>\n\n\u201cBryce Cardigan,\u201d she |1|sobbed|1|. \u201cI saw him -- he was riding a top log on the train. He -- ah, God help him!\u201d"}, {"idx": 38240, "candidates": {"0": "begged", "1": "admit", "2": "laughed"}, "pred": "{'0': 'no', '1': 'no', '2': 'no'}", "context": "When the members of the Scriblerus Club were in town, they were generally together, and often made excursions into the country. They generally preferred walking to riding, and all agreed once to walk down to Lord Burlington's about twelve miles from town. It was Swift's custom in whatever company he might visit to travel, to endeavor to procure the best bed for himself. To secure that, on the present occasion, Swift, who was an excellent walker, proposed, as they were leaving town, that each should make the best of his way. Dr. Parnell, guessing the Dean's intentions, pretended to agree; but as his friend was out of sight, he took a horse, and arrived at his Lordship's by another way, before Swift. Having acquainted his noble host with the other's design, he |0|begged|0| of him to disappoint it. It was resolved that Swift should be kept out of the house. Swift had never had the small-pox, and was, as all his friends knew, very much afraid of catching that distemper. A servant was despatched to meet him as he was approaching the gate, and to tell him that the small-pox was raging in the house, that it would be unsafe for him to enter the doors, but that there was a field-bed in the summer house in the garden, at his service. Thither the Dean was under the necessity of betaking himself. He was forced to be content with a cold supper, whilst his friends, whom he had tried to outstrip, were feasting in the house. At last after they thought they had sufficiently punished his too eager desire for his own accommodation, they requested his lordship to |1|admit|1| him into the company. The Dean was obliged to promise he would not afterwards, when with his friends, attempt to secure the best bed to himself. Swift was often the butt of their waggery, which he bore with great good humor, knowing well, that though they |2|laughed|2| at his singularities, they esteemed his virtues, admired his wit, and venerated his wisdom.\n\nMany were the frolics of the Scriblerus Club. They often evinced the truth of an observation made by the poet, <|Q|>\"dulce est desipere in loco.\"<|Q|>\n\nThe time for wits to play the fool, is when they are met together, to relax from the severity of mental exertion. Their follies have a degree of extravagance much beyond the phlegmatic merriment of sober dulness, and can be relished by those only, who having wit themselves, can trace the extravagance to the real source."}, {"idx": 120404, "candidates": {"0": "breathe"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "It was now the beginning of summer, and each day the sun blazed more fiercely. One morning the heat was so great that the stone-cutter could scarcely |0|breathe|0|, and he determined he would stay at home till the evening. He was rather dull, for he had never learned how to amuse himself, and was peeping through the closed blinds to see what was going on in the street, when a little carriage passed by, drawn by servants dressed in blue and silver. In the carriage sat a prince, and over his head a golden umbrella was held, to protect him from the sun\u2019s rays.\n\n<|Q|>\u201cOh, if I were only a prince!\u201d<|Q|> said the stone-cutter to himself, as the carriage vanished round the corner. \u201cOh, if I were only a prince, and could go in such a carriage and have a golden umbrella held over me, how happy I should be!\u201d\n\nAnd the voice of the mountain spirit answered: \u201cYour wish is heard; a prince you shall be.\u201d"}, {"idx": 83506, "candidates": {"0": "pronounce"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201cYours, very sincerely,\n\n<|Q|>\u201cM. GARDINER.\u201d<|Q|>\n\nThe contents of this letter threw Elizabeth into a flutter of spirits, in which it was difficult to determine whether pleasure or pain bore the greatest share. The vague and unsettled suspicions which uncertainty had produced, of what Mr. Darcy might have been doing to forward her sister\u2019s match -- which she had feared to encourage, as an exertion of goodness too great to be probable, and at the same time dreaded to be just, from the pain of obligation -- were proved beyond their greatest extent to be true! He had followed them purposely to town, he had taken on himself all the trouble and mortification attendant on such a research; in which supplication had been necessary to a woman whom he must abominate and despise, and where he was reduced to meet, frequently meet, reason with, persuade, and finally bribe the man whom he always most wished to avoid, and whose very name it was punishment to him to |0|pronounce|0|. He had done all this for a girl whom he could neither regard nor esteem. Her heart did whisper that he had done it for her. But it was a hope shortly checked by other considerations; and she soon felt that even her vanity was insufficient, when required to depend on his affection for her, for a woman who had already refused him, as able to overcome a sentiment so natural as abhorrence against relationship with Wickham. Brother-in-law of Wickham! Every kind of pride must revolt from the connection. He had, to be sure, done much. She was ashamed to think how much. But he had given a reason for his interference, which asked no extraordinary stretch of belief. It was reasonable that he should feel he had been wrong; he had liberality, and he had the means of exercising it; and though she would not place herself as his principal inducement, she could perhaps believe, that remaining partiality for her might assist his endeavours in a cause where her peace of mind must be materially concerned. It was painful, exceedingly painful, to know that they were under obligations to a person who could never receive a return. They owed the restoration of Lydia, her character, everything to him. Oh, how heartily did she grieve over every ungracious sensation she had ever encouraged, every saucy speech she had ever directed towards him! For herself she was humbled; but she was proud of him, -- proud that in a cause of compassion and honour he had been able to get the better of himself. She read over her aunt\u2019s commendation of him again and again. It was hardly enough; but it pleased her. She was even sensible of some pleasure, though mixed with regret, on finding how steadfastly both she and her uncle had been persuaded that affection and confidence subsisted between Mr. Darcy and herself."}, {"idx": 38141, "candidates": {"0": "exclaimed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "When the Moore house was reached, Mary, anxious to see her dad, hurried indoors and went directly to his room. He had just awakened from his nap and looked so much better that Mary |0|exclaimed|0| gladly, \u201cDad, you\u2019ll be sitting out on the porch next week. I\u2019m just ever so sure that you will.\u201d Then, to the nurse who had entered, \u201cOh, Mrs. Farley, isn\u2019t Dad wonderfully improved? Don\u2019t you think he\u2019ll be well enough to go back East with me in October when school opens?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m sure of it!\u201d the kind woman replied, then, dismissing the girl, she added, <|Q|>\u201cIt\u2019s time for the alcohol rub, dearie. Come back at four and you may read to your dad until supper time.\u201d<|Q|>\n\n\u201cOh, I surely will.\u201d For a long moment Mary\u2019s rosebud cheek pressed the thin wan one she so loved, then she slipped away."}, {"idx": 50720, "candidates": {"0": "growled"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "\u201cYou never see a goat shedding tears in a Protestant canton -- a goat, there, is one of the cheerfulest objects in nature.\u201d Next it was the chamois: \u201cYou never see a Protestant chamois act like one of these -- they take a bite or two and go; but these fellows camp with you and stay.\u201d Then it was the guide-boards: \u201cIn a Protestant canton you couldn't get lost if you wanted to, but you never see a guide-board in a Catholic canton.\u201d Next, <|Q|>\u201cYou never see any flower-boxes in the windows, here -- never anything but now and then a cat -- a torpid one; but you take a Protestant canton: windows perfectly lovely with flowers -- and as for cats, there's just acres of them. These folks in this canton leave a road to make itself, and then fine you three francs if you 'trot' over it -- as if a horse could trot over such a sarcasm of a road.\u201d<|Q|> Next about the goiter: \u201cTHEY talk about goiter! -- I haven't seen a goiter in this whole canton that I couldn't put in a hat.\u201d\n\nHe had |0|growled|0| at everything, but I judged it would puzzle him to find anything the matter with this majestic glacier. I intimated as much; but he was ready, and said with surly discontent: \u201cYou ought to see them in the Protestant cantons.\u201d"}, {"idx": 57377, "candidates": {"0": "exclaimed"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u201cYou never told me that,\u201d said M. Popeau, surprised. \u201cHave you got the box?\u201d\n\nLily shook her head. <|Q|>\u201cOh, no. I couldn\u2019t take such a valuable present from a stranger.\u201d<|Q|>\n\n\u201cThen that was also included in the haul the thieves made?\u201d |0|exclaimed|0| Mr. Sharrow. \u201cBut I\u2019m very glad I\u2019ve heard about that box, for it might help to catch Ponting\u2019s murderers. It\u2019s just a chance, to tell you the truth, that they didn\u2019t make a much bigger haul. Ponting was an eccentric chap in some ways \u2014 the sort of man who doesn\u2019t trust banks. As a rule he carried about with him a very big sum. But on that very day \u2014 the day, I mean, that he was killed \u2014 I got him to deposit the kind of satchel thing in which he kept his money in the safe of the hotel where he and I were staying at Nice. The manager there has hit on the rather clever idea of having a number of little safes, which he lets out at five francs a day. I persuaded Ponting that it would be very much safer to leave his securities \u2014 for part of the money was in what they call \u2018bonds to bearer\u2019 \u2014 there. It was insane to come every day, as he used to do, to a place like Monte Carlo with all that money on him.\u201d"}, {"idx": 93589, "candidates": {"0": "whispered"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\u2019 said Nicholas, tenderly, \u2018I never meant to stay among you; think better of me than to suppose it possible. I may turn my back on this town a few hours sooner than I intended, but what of that? We shall not forget each other apart, and better days will come when we shall part no more. Be a woman, Kate,\u2019 he |0|whispered|0|, proudly, \u2018and do not make me one, while HE looks on.\u2019\n\n\u2018No, no, I will not,\u2019 said Kate, eagerly, <|Q|>\u2018but you will not leave us. Oh! think of all the happy days we have had together, before these terrible misfortunes came upon us; of all the comfort and happiness of home, and the trials we have to bear now; of our having no protector under all the slights and wrongs that poverty so much favours, and you cannot leave us to bear them alone, without one hand to help us.\u2019<|Q|>\n\n\u2018You will be helped when I am away,\u2019 replied Nicholas hurriedly. \u2018I am no help to you, no protector; I should bring you nothing but sorrow, and want, and suffering. My own mother sees it, and her fondness and fears for you, point to the course that I should take. And so all good angels bless you, Kate, till I can carry you to some home of mine, where we may revive the happiness denied to us now, and talk of these trials as of things gone by. Do not keep me here, but let me go at once. There. Dear girl -- dear girl.\u2019"}, {"idx": 84051, "candidates": {"0": "murmured"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "Presley closed his eyes -- they were sunken in circles of dark brown flesh -- and pressed a thin hand to the back of his head.\n\n<|Q|>\u201cIt is a nightmare,\u201d<|Q|> he |0|murmured|0|. \u201cA frightful nightmare, and it's not over yet. You have heard of it all only through the newspaper reports. But down there, at Bonneville, at Los Muertos -- oh, you can have no idea of it, of the misery caused by the defeat of the ranchers and by this decision of the Supreme Court that dispossesses them all. We had gone on hoping to the last that we would win there. We had thought that in the Supreme Court of the United States, at least, we could find justice. And the news of its decision was the worst, last blow of all. For Magnus it was the last -- positively the very last.\u201d"}, {"idx": 6865, "candidates": {"0": "murmured"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"yes\"}", "context": "\"The noblest heads, the likeliest to fall,\" Carlos |0|murmured|0|.\n\n<|Q|>\"Then must younger soldiers step forth from the ranks, and take up the standards dropped from their hands. Don Carlos Alvarez, we have high hopes of you. Your quiet words reach the heart; for you speak that which you know, and testify that which you have seen. And the good gifts of mind that God has given you enable you to speak with the greater acceptance. He may have much work for you in his harvest-field. But whether he should call you to work or to suffer, shrink not, but 'be strong and of good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed; for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.'\"<|Q|>\n\n\"I will try to trust him; and may he make his strength perfect in my weakness,\" said Carlos. \"But for the present,\" he added, \"give me any lowly work to do, whereby I may aid you or lighten your cares, my loved friend and teacher.\""}, {"idx": 69572, "candidates": {"0": "groaned"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "Aziel obeyed, and having washed out the wound with water, Metem rubbed ointment into it which burnt Elissa so sorely that she |0|groaned|0| aloud.\n\n\u201cBe patient beneath the pain, lady,\u201d he said, <|Q|>\u201cfor if it has not already passed into your blood, this salve will eat away the poison of the arrow.\u201d<|Q|>\n\nThen half-leading and half-carrying her, they brought her back to the palace. Here Metem gave her over into the care of her father, telling him as much of the story as he thought wise, and cautioning him to keep silent concerning what had happened."}, {"idx": 25580, "candidates": {"0": "whispering"}, "pred": "{\"0\": \"no\"}", "context": "\"And who goes out with him?\" asked Mr. Palliser, putting off the evil moment of his own decision; but before the Duke could answer him, he had reminded himself that under his present circumstances he had no right to ask such a question. His own decision could not rest upon that point. \"But it does not matter,\" he said; \"I am afraid I must decline the offer you bring me.\"\n\n<|Q|>\"Decline it!\"<|Q|> said the Duke, who could not have been more surprised had his friend talked of declining heaven.\n\n\"I fear I must.\" The Duke had now risen from his chair, and was standing, with both his hands upon the table. All his contentment, all his joviality, had vanished. His fine round face had become almost ludicrously long; his eyes and mouth were struggling to convey reproach, and the reproach was almost drowned in vexation. Ever since Parliament had met he had been |0|whispering|0| Mr. Palliser's name into the Prime Minister's ear, and now -- . But he could not, and would not, believe it."}]
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