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Paul slept on, his breathing as regular as the ticking of a clock, healthy color coming back into his pale face as he slept. Henry's own eyes began to waver. A deep sense of peace and rest soothed him, heart and brain. He had meant to watch the night through, but even he had reached the limit of endurance.
You ought to see mine when I take it down; it's like the pictures of the bush-whackers . . . you know what I mean, from South Africa or somewhere, you know . . . only, of course, mine's a prettier color. Sometime I'll come and comb yours for you, when you're tired out from curing sick Indians.
But it must be fine along the Wissahickon. I have read about it." "It is fine, but this is finer." "You better say so!" "Oh, look, David, the soil is pink!" She pointed to a tilled field whose soil was colored a soft old rose color. "I'm always glad to see the pink soil." "So am I. It means that we are getting near the mountains.
The girl sat with head slightly bowed and rich color deepening. If she showed emotion at all, it was in her haughty stillness, as though she voluntarily put all expression out of her face until the recital was ended. The effect on Miss Lucilla, as they sat side by side on a sofa, was slightly disconcerting, so that she came to her conclusion lamely.
Not a beauty, but a fresh, wholesome little body, with a real complexion, an abundance of hair, and large-irised, wide-awake eyes, changeable as to color, because capricious in expression; the sort of girl, in fact, who would be likely to persuade people ultimately that, considering circumstances, absolute beauty could be easily dispensed with, and, upon the whole, would rather detract from the general charm of novelty, which, in her case, reigned supreme.
"I didn't say I was going to tell Fred's father," Dick answered, his color rising, "and I haven't any thought of it, either. Any fellow of anywhere near my own size who calls me a sneak can have his answer two of them," Dick went on, displaying his fists. "You know that well enough, Hen Dutcher.
The color came back into his face; a wild sort of relief lighted his eyes. "Then it didn't occur to you, Sylvie, that that brute might have been me that the men might, after all, have been describing me eh?" he asked, risking all his hope on one throw. She laughed, and, lifting herself a little in his arms, touched her soft mouth to his. "But, Hugh, you told me your story, don't you remember?
But, I urge the study of the occult significance of color, as mentioned in this book in connection with the human aura and its astral colors, as a sound basis for an intelligent, thorough understanding of the real psychic principles underlying the physical application of the methods referred to.
Jack started back, the color fading from his cheeks as the significance of it all came to him. "And now you pretend to have the combination entirely wrong," went on the manager. Jack found his voice. "Mr. Black, you are mistaken! You are mistaken! I never could do such a thing! Never!" "I would prefer proof," Mr. Black said coldly. Jack caught at the idea. "Would you let me try to prove it, sir?
This bright and rosy world, enriched by nature and art, was so new, its values were so different, that at first she was dazed into dumbness by it. She came face to face with beauty and art made a part of daily life. She thought she had never seen color, or flowers, or even a real sky, until now.
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