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But tell me, do you think I am so beautiful?" "You won't be at all beautiful if you eat me," he said, shaking his head sadly. "Handsome is as handsome does, you know." The Queen turned to Button-Bright. "Do YOU think I'm beautiful?" she asked. "No," said the boy; "you're ugly." "I think you're a fright," said Dorothy. "If you could see yourself you'd be terribly scared," added Polly.
The clean white silk shirt fitted his broad shoulders, the wide rider's belt clung to his supple waist, the leather chaps were shaped to his Greek hips and thighs. No civilized man's costume could so have revealed and enhanced his beautiful strength.
Moreover, there were worse things than that since, being beautiful, some of his companions talked to her in a way she could not misunderstand, till at length Thomas Bolle, coming on one of them, thrashed him as he had never been thrashed before, after which there was trouble that was only appeased by a gift. Yet on the whole things went well.
And the little 'Dutch landscape, which you put over your sideboard to-day, and between the windows to-morrow, is' no less a glorious 'piece of work than the extents of field and forest with which Benozzo has made green and beautiful the once melancholy arcade of the Campo Santo at Pisa, as Ruskin says.
We should remember, however, that not only the glow of autumn and the flush of summer are beautiful, but that every season, every climate, every aspect in the shifting panorama of Nature, has a beauty as real. Our own region, be it arid with parching suns, or wet with frequent rains; be it always winter there, or always summer, is full of beauty.
I understand. They are very beautiful very beautiful indeed." "Which do you like most?" asked Julia, in a whisper, as she leaned against my shoulder. "I like them all," I said. "There is scarcely any difference among them that I can see." "No difference!" she exclaimed. "That is so like a man! Why, they are as different as can be.
"Yes," said another; "beautiful! but they look as though they could be fast." Fast! and we were not even speaking! not even looking at them! Sophie and I were walking presently, and met half a dozen. We had to stop to let them pass the crossing; they did not think of making way for us; No. 1 sighed such a sigh!
On the left hand was Sir Brandford Griffiths' hobby a choice and select little garden, of lovely eucharis lilies mostly in tubs, and rare and beautiful flowers brought by him from his Barbadian home; while shading it and the courtyard was a fine specimen of that superb thing of beauty a flamboyant tree glorious with its delicate-green acacia-like leaves and vermilion and yellow flowers, and astonishing with its vast beans.
"You should have let him go first and then gone after him. You should have turned up suddenly, in wonderful clothes, looking cheerful and beautiful. So that you wiped out the memory he funked. As it is you've left him nothing else to think of." "I daresay that's what I should have done. But it's too late. I can't do it now." "I'm not so sure." "What, go after Jerrold? Hunt him down?
The boy mounts one battered steed, the other is left behind in a hospitable stable, and we trot briskly on through lovely scenery of forest and mountain to Kanas, at the head of the beautiful lake of Tondano, hitherto seen in glimpses at an immense depth between encircling peaks.
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