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Terry was still at his post. He did not see them. There was no human face in the world for him except the colorless face of the croupier, and the long, pale eyelashes that lifted now and then over greenish-orange eyes. And Terry did not heed when he was shouldered by the growing crowd around the wheel.
A long silence, broken here and there by guttural gurglings; then Laughing Eyes babbled tentatively: "John Will Will " she choked here, as though trying to add a syllable which she could not clearly catch. And at this point, Rosalie took another look through her eyelashes. She had touched something! He was leaning forward; his mouth had opened.
But while she was laughing she had to wink a sudden moisture from her eyelashes: this glimpse of the natural self of the man she had married went to her heart. "Is it true?" he said, still with that friendly twinkle in his eyes. "Do I lead you the deuce of a life, poor old Laura?" "I don't mind," said Laura, smiling back at him. She could have been more eloquent, but she dared not.
She carefully read all the Answers to Correspondents in the various papers Aldith lent her in search of a remedy, but nearly everyone seemed to be asking for recipes to promote the growth of the eyelashes or to prevent embonpoint. Not one she chanced on said, "A red nose in a girl is generally caused by indigestion or tight-lacing."
"Do you like acrostics?" she said, peeping up through her long eyelashes at the old general. "Oh, don't tease Uncle James," hastily interposed Sydney, as yet inexperienced in the difference between the importunities of a merely nice-looking niece, and the blandishments of a brilliant stranger. Sir James said kindly "What, my dear?" And when Elvira replied "Do help us to guess this.
He had a fashion of working his scalp half way down to his eyes, as he spoke, and when he smiled, though he never laughed aloud, his eyelashes did not contract, as with most people, but rather expanded, till his eyeballs projected from his head. On such occasions, his white teeth were revealed like a row of fangs, and his leprous skin grew yet paler.
She might even see and talk to her as often as she wished, it revealed itself and when she and Mademoiselle got into their hansom cab to drive away, she caught at the Frenchwoman's hand and clung to it, her eyelashes wet, "It is as if there MUST be Goodness which takes care of one," she said. "I used to believe in it so until I was afraid of all the world. Dowie means most of all.
She really thought no more harm of staying at Verner's Pride with Lionel, than she would have thought it had old Mr. Verner been its master. The eyelashes, resting on her hot cheeks, were wet, as she turned round when Lionel entered. "Have you taken anything, Mrs. Massingbird?" "No." "But you should have done so," he remonstrated, his tone one of the most considerate kindness.
Besides, my eyelashes aren't long enough, and my nose isn't Grecian, or Roman, or any of those delightfully desirable ones that belong to a 'type. It's just NOSE. And my face is too long, or too short, I've forgotten which; but I measured it once with one of those 'correct-for-beauty' tests, and it wasn't right, anyhow.
"I think, Signor Marchese," she said, dropping her large eyes beneath their long fringes, and looking adorably lovely as she did so, "I am afraid that what you have wished is what some might deem offensive to a lady." And as she spoke she looked out furtively from behind her eyelashes. "Bianca, is that reasonable?" he said, in a tone of remonstrance.
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