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McHale stood equally still, facing them, his eyes narrowed down to slits, his left hand holding the lapel of his coat, his right hand, a half-smoked cigarette between the first and second fingers, on a level with his chin. He expelled a thin stream of smoke from his lungs, and spoke: "I reckon you can tell him yourself. Here he come now." The eyes of the first man never shifted.
Evelyn was seated before the piano and Gilmore was bending above her, while Marshall, with an unread book in his hands and with a half-smoked cigar between his teeth, was lounging in front of the fire. The judge's glance rested questioningly on Gilmore, but only for a moment. Then an angry flame of recognition colored his thin cheeks.
What does Bishop think about it?" "Oh, Andy's quite sure Sandy didn't see him, ..." Tess explained, shaking her head. "Anyhow, it's no use to worry, honey," smiled Young. The next morning three men in a wagon passed the Kennedy farm. Ebenezer Waldstricker was driving and beside him sat Lysander Letts. Alone on the back seat sprawled the big sheriff, a half-smoked cigar between his teeth.
The man at her side possessed her thoughts to the exclusion of all else; she threw away her half-smoked cigarette to look at him with soft, tremulous eyes. Suddenly, she put an arm about his neck and bent his face back, which accomplished, she leant over him to kiss his hair, eyes, neck, and mouth. "I love you! I love you! I love you!" she murmured. "You're wonderful, little Mavis wonderful."
He knew that the artist would be expecting him, and he went directly to the cabin, escaping notice by following along the fringe of the forest. Gregson was pacing back and forth across the cabin floor when Philip arrived. His steps were quick and excited. His hands were thrust deep in his trousers pockets. The butts of innumerable half-smoked cigarettes lay scattered under his feet.
A discarded tie hung limply from a hook on the wall, a half-smoked cigar and a faded white rose lay side by side on the low table. From the garden the sad call of a night-bird, with its oft-repeated wail, seemed to voice her loneliness, and with a sob she sank upon her knees beside the cot. Long she lay in an abandonment of grief, beating futile wings against the bars of fate.
He leaned forward with so swift a movement that Oldham involuntarily dodged back. "You tell your boss," said Bob, "that nothing on God's earth can keep me out of court." He threw away his half-smoked cigar and went back to the chair car. The sight of Oldham was intolerable to him. The words were said, and the decision made. In his heart he knew the matter irrevocable.
"It needed your presence, Monsieur Mouillard," said she, "to drag him from his work." "Saint Sylvester's day, too. It is fearful! Love for his art has changed your son's nature, Madame Lampron." She gave him a tender look, as on entering the room he bent over the fire and shook out his half-smoked pipe against the bars, a thing he never failed to do the moment he entered his mother's room.
He was a nasty little man to hold despotic sway over such a Paradise: a goblin in Fairyland. Somewhat below the middle height, he was lean of body and vulturine of face. He had a greedy mouth, a hooked nose, liquid green eyes and a sallow complexion. He was rarely seen without a half-smoked cigar between his lips.
An immense fire roared in the long-disused chimney; warm blankets, bottles of hot water and mustard-poultices were prepared by a corps of officious servants; the master of the mansion, with three or four friends at his heels, and a half-smoked cigar in his hand, had looked in for a moment, to hope that Dr.
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