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Breed cupped his lips, his head stretched forth and his muzzle depressed to a line slightly below the peak of his shoulders as he sent forth the hunting cry to summon his loyal band. An hour later Cripp and Peg were with him, the three of them swinging west along the divide toward the rough mass of the main range of hills.
Up from that floor and from the jetty, steaming walls of the pit drifted ambrosial perfume that evoked visions of ancient vineyards where, under the Eastern sun, bloomy clusters of grape mayhap even the very grape sung by the Tent-maker hung ripening. Still, none stooped to the mouths of the wine-skins, to taste. None drank from cupped palm. Dry-mouthed, hot, panting, the Legionaries still obeyed.
And I will not conceal it that I am glad you have come to share them though I have not the intention to heed a word of your advice," he added, half laughing, half threatening. Pushing the other down upon the rough bunk, he seated himself beside him, his elbows on his knees, his chin cupped in his palms. "The host is full of impatience; and I am weary unto madness.
In spite of the watch he and his first mate kept on this particular occasion, he found time to give me his opinion on certain things interesting to the men who go down to the sea in ships, and also an idea of what it means to be in command of a mine-sweeper. "You should have been with us on Sunday," he said, as he lighted his cigarette between his cupped hands.
I want you to be all dolled up to-night." His hands were fairly ablaze or looked to be. He had his great palms cupped, and that cup was full of gems in all sorts of ancient settings shooting sparks of all colors in the dimly lighted room. "There's a handful of stuff to make you pretty," he said, proudly. The ancient belt dangled over his arm.
A rounded elbow rested on the sill of the window; her chin was cupped in her hand. "Send these away," said Harrigan, and leaned an elbow beside hers. "Oh," she murmured; then: "And if I send them away?" "I'll reward you." "Reward?" For answer he dragged a crimson carnation from the buttonhole of a tall man who stood at his side.
Her face marked with tears, the long braids of her hair over her shoulders, she looked so like a sad and chidden child that the piteousness of her would have moved and melted harder hearts than ours. The Butterfly Man had listened without an interruption. He sat leaning slightly forward, knees crossed, the left arm folded to support the elbow of the right, and his chin in his cupped right hand.
"Since the first night of the play they've hardly said a word to each other only when it's absolutely necessary." Joan spoke dejectedly, her chin cupped in her hand. Jerry nodded. "I know," he agreed. "It's pretty awful." He and Joan were having tea alone together, cosily, by the library fire.
He went by it on his toes and passed on down the steps and into the full face of the town lying there cupped in green hills and with a sunshiny quiet that made the world seem farther away than ever. A couple of men were walking down the street and stopping now and then to talk to those they met.
She was by then at the end of the instalment, and when she put the magazine down she pressed her fingers to her lids and complained that her eyes hurt her. "They often do," she said; "it's a good thing I'm not going to be an artist like Bunny or the hero of this story, isn't it?" She dropped her chin into her cupped palms and sat staring ahead, her eyes shining for all their smarting lids.
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