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The day after her return from Europe Alice Thorndyke had come into this room and thrown herself down on the couch, her long, languorous body looking as if set on steel springs, her angelic blonde beauty distorted with fury and disgust, and poured out her hatred of men and all their ways, her loathing for society and gambling and all the stupid vicious round of the life both public and secret she had elected to lead....She had had enough of it....After all, she had some brains and she wanted to use them.
Claralie tossed her head as she crossed herself with holy water, and the pink in her cheeks was brighter than usual. Manuela smiled a bright good-morning when she met Claralie in St. Rocque the next Friday. The little blonde blushed furiously, and Manuela rushed post-haste to the Wizened One to confer upon this new issue. "H'it ees good," said the dame, shaking her turbaned head.
"I'll put it in my desk," said he. "It's in the left-hand cubbyhole," he called from inside. "Very well," she replied. He stood in the doorway, looking fondly at her unconscious shoulders and the pose of her blonde head thrown back against the high rocking-chair. "That's the sort of a woman, after all," said Senor Johnson. "No blame fuss about her."
She looks at him a little while, then sighs, and finally, slipping her hand through his arm, lays her blonde head against him, and is the personification of all things peaceful, until the service ends.
"Miss Verne is certainly deserving of our most bitter hate!" cried the latter in affected severity. Marguerite was indulging in thoughts of a different nature, but she managed to reply to her ladyship, and occasionally ventured a remark upon some trivial matters. "You will be at the reception to-night, my dear?" exclaimed the blonde beauty as she rose to go. Mrs.
The small eyes, the high cheeks, the broad noses, the puff lips, the bare, cue-filleted skulls, of Russians, Poles, Czechs, Chinese; the furtive glitter of Italians; the blonde dulness of Germans; the cold quiet of Scandinavians fire under ice were aspects that he identified, and that gave him abundant suggestion for the personal histories he constructed, and for the more public-spirited reveries in which he dealt with the future economy of our heterogeneous commonwealth.
A little apart sat a blonde beauty of petite figure, who talked in a deep contralto voice, astonishing for one so slight, with a young lieutenant who leaned close to her. I selected her for Tudie Devlin of Kentucky. She whom I fancied to be the "Evans girl from up North," was just promenading away with a young man in evening dress.
"If it should rain, if it should turn out a pouring wet day, what should I do? That would be too terrible!" He felt the boat alive beneath his oars, the river placid and gentle, and all the charm of the rushes, the cedars, the locks, and the blonde beautiful girl in the stern with the parasol he had bought her aslant. Let him have this day, and he didn't care what happened!
And he imagined her as he would have her, blonde, firm of flesh, lithe, feline, melancholy, capable of frenzies; and the picture of her brought on such a tension of nerves that his teeth rattled.
Red-Eye himself and Ray Clancy, the pianner-player, and two o' the girls was lost. I got a busted arm and most o' my hair singed off going in after 'em, but 'twarn't no use." "You knew the the girls?" Willa had difficulty in controlling her voice. "Sure I did! Blonde Annie and Miss Violet. Annie was just a a girl like you'd expect, Ma'am, but Miss Violet, she was a regular lady.
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