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Deborah turned her eyes to his, stern and gleaming with her pain. And she continued sharply: "But I don't mean to shut those children out! And so it's clear as day to me that I can't ever marry you! That baby to-night was the finishing stroke!" She made a quick restless movement. Baird leaned slowly forward. Her hands in her lap were clenched together. He took them both and held them hard.
Costello stroked back gently the soft black locks which were falling loose over her lap. "You are a child, Lucia. I have never been in any haste for you to be otherwise." "But I am not such a child, really, mamma. Sixteen and a half! I ought to be very nearly a woman." Mrs. Costello sighed. "You will be a woman soon enough, my darling, be content as to that."
For the first time in a long while the two straight worry lines came back between mother's eyes, and the children immediately climbed in her lap to kiss them away. "I can't tell yet, dearest ones," she said after a while. "I have been very foolish to leave so much of our money in one bank, I am afraid, but I had such faith, too much, perhaps, and I fear "
Her life had ended in its prime; nay, not ended, for the completion had never come it was to be a work unfinished till its close. Poor Arthur Brunwalde! A few more silent stitches, and then the work slipped from Theo's fingers into her lap, and she lifted her big, inconsistent eyes again. "Pam," she said, "were you ever at Lady Throckmorton's?" A faint color showed itself on Pamela's faded face.
Boys are, of course, curious creatures. I have said that we were always hungry. I think we were. The treacle I would lap up greedily, but at the porridge my gorge rose. I simply could not swallow it.
A last backward, hungry glance over his shoulder as he started gave him a glimpse through the open door of the living-room, and he saw Mary leaning against the table looking down at her hands, which were half clasped in her lap, as if she were waiting for him to get out of the way.
Hortensia took her seat upon the long stool that stood at the spinet, her back to the instrument, and with hands idle in her lap the same cold reserve upon her countenance-she awaited his communication.
In the tense quiet came the tranquil lap of the lake, the call of a distant bird, the lazy murmur of many leaves in a morning wind. Philip stood very quietly by the table. He looked at Diane; he seemed to have forgotten the others, Tregar thought.
There was no awkward shyness on her part now, and no boredom on his. Little Harry fused them. She had remembered to bring fresh milk and rusks for a possibly hungry baby, and he sat on her lap as she fed him, and cooed to her when his mouth was not too full, and seemed to forget that any other foster-mother had ever existed.
Her look of disappointment compelled me to speak with decision. "I know what you would like at this juncture, momma. You'd like me to get down on the floor and put my head in your lap and weep all over your new brocade. That's what you'd really enjoy. But, under circumstances like these, I never do things like that.
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