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Under a light-blue Bavarian cavalry cape he wore a peasant's homespun shirt, and he carried no arms. He pushed past Desiree rather unceremoniously, glad to get within doors. He was very lame, and of his blue knitted stockings only the legs remained; he was barefoot. He limped towards the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Desiree shut the door.
She put out a most cordial and warm hand from her fitch muff, and her acquaintance noticed with pleasure the white knitted mitten that protected it from the weather. He had not yet found time to miss the gloves left behind at the club, but the warm little mitten was very comfortable to his fingers.
And she knitted her brows in an eager way, for this was a chance to tell how she had done it. "How long have you been married!" her visitor was asking. "Let me see. Four years? No, two," she replied, with a quick smile. "Time does so fly along in this town!" "It does indeed. It seems hardly any time at all since the days when your husband and I were friends."
"Well, perhaps you have taken a prudent line. But do you imagine your reserve has deceived Janet Halliday?" "Perhaps it has not; Mrs. Halliday is clever. I think she is my friend." "It's possible," Bernard agreed, with a touch of ironical humor. "How long do you think you must give Evelyn, in order to avoid the jar she might get if you prematurely revealed your hopes?" Jim knitted his brows.
'He sat before her in the gloomy Bride's Chamber, day after day, night after night, looking the word at her when he did not utter it. As often as her large unmeaning eyes were raised from the hands in which she rocked her head, to the stern figure, sitting with crossed arms and knitted forehead, in the chair, they read in it, "Die!"
The other young men were swarming up the trees with the girls' baskets, but he stood aloof with his forehead knitted; it was as if all his reason had deserted him. All at once there was a rustle at his side, and Rose Berry touched him on the arm; he started, and looked down into her softly glowing little face. "Oh, here you are!" said she, and her voice had adoring cadences. Barney nodded.
She had been here since early in the afternoon, it was now near seven o'clock. Nancy looked at the pictures, but inattentively, her brows slightly knitted, and her lips often on the point of speech that concerned some other matter. Since the summer holiday she had grown a trifle thinner in face; her beauty was no longer allied with perfect health; a heaviness appeared on her eyelids.
I had no better task than to look round me at those who had tenanted the place before our coming. There were three women, decent-looking bodies, who talked low in whispers and knitted. The men were mostly countryfolk, culled, as I could tell by their speech, from the west country, whose only fault, no doubt, was that they had attended some field-preaching.
I told them to put him on the sofa." "I should say so!" ejaculated Mr. Adams, and limped forward to help. Mrs. Adams quickly rearranged the knitted spread and the pillow; and with Mr. Adams attending to the feet end of the rescued stranger and Charley and the long-nosed man attending to the body and head, on the sofa the unknown was deposited. "He's so thinly clothed!" cried Mrs.
"Folks say that after a person dies, the picture begins to fade," Auntie Elspie said, wiping the shining surface tenderly. "But mother's picture is as bright as the day it was taken." Christina looked at the strong, kindly face, with the white cap and the little knitted shawl and felt her heart contract at the yearning in the older woman's voice.
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