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Her wispy grey hair fluttered out from under the wide black hat, and she looked pretty and pathetic, with her shabby black bag and her old umbrella, like a witch, as Howard said, who had been caught whilst absent-mindedly gathering toad-stools and carried here in triumph to bless their mortal festivity. When you see it opening, stand clear and hold on to yourselves."
Els uttered a sigh of relief, for both the men named were friendly to Wolff; but Herr Vorchtel had already risen and began to speak, turning his wise old head slowly to and fro, and drawing his soft grey beard through his hand.
"Ask it." "Shall I be a long while here?" "You will be a week or two till your foot gets strong again." "Will a week or two make it strong?" The two pairs of eyes looked into each other. The thoughtful grey eyes of the child, and the impenetrable blue orbs of the man. There was mutual study; some mutual recognition. "You must be a good child and try to bear it."
You should have seen his pretence at enjoying the flowers and drinking in sweetness from them and he stayed longest on the wrong flowers!" "Dear me! Now why did he do that?" "Because he didn't know any better, and he was trying to make us think he did." "But, Miss Grey a fly a blue-bottle! Now really how did you know what he was thinking of?" "I watched him closely and I found him out at last.
Bridgie says there's nothing so bad but it might be worse, and I was thinking that they were worse off than me. I'd rather even that the girls wouldn't speak to me than boiling oil wouldn't you, Mademoiselle?" "I would indeed!" replied Mademoiselle fervently. "But what a subject to think about on a dull grey day! No wonder you look miserable!
It may perhaps some of it at least may be fancy. But then, what isn't? What is trustworthy? And now your brother tells me my hair's turning grey. I suppose I have been living too slowly, too sluggishly, and they thought it was high time to stir me up.
Poor old man! his heart was breaking; but his soul was so brightly comforted that there, where many, many long miles off, I see him standing, desolate and patient, in the corner of yon crowded market- place, holding Sir Isaac by slackened string with listless hand Sir Isaac unshorn, travel-stained, draggled, with drooping head and melancholy eyes yea, as I see him there, jostled by the crowd, to whom, now and then, pointing to that huge pannier on his arm, filled with some homely pedlar wares, he mechanically mutters, "Buy" yea, I say, verily, as I see him thus, I cannot draw near in pity I see what the crowd does not the shadow of an angel's wing over his grey head; and I stand reverentially aloof, with bated breath and bended knee.
The fields were like cups filled with a green liquid that turned grey in the fall and white in the winter. The mountains, far off but apparently near at hand, were like giants ready at any moment to reach out their hands and take the cups one by one and drink off the green liquid. The large rocks in the fields were like the thumbs of the giants.
But the luxuriance of the undergrowth, and the huge chaos of grey rocks which cumber that part of the forest, made it difficult to keep for any time in a straight line. After being an hour in the saddle we concluded that we had lost our way, and were confirmed in this, on reaching a clearing.
They came to my lips and I uttered them, making Mr Brooke turn round upon me sharply, in the grey light of dawn. "What do you mean by that, boy?" he said. "Mean? I don't I that is," I stammered; "I wouldn't give up yet, sir." "What would you do? wait for them to come back?" he said bitterly. "No," I cried, gaining courage; "go after them, sir."
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