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She found she had her forehead on the table, and her hands were knotted in her lap. And where once the Gate to the House had been, there was only London now. No more would the drum of the sea beat in her heart, there was nothing left but the throbbing of distant trams. "So it's all lies ..." she said quietly. "There really is a thing called death after all. People die...."
The basket of provisions was placed in her lap when the family drove out to the wood. The neck of the bottle stuck out above the parts of the white napkins that were visible. There was red wax on its cork, and it looked straight into the eyes of the pretty girl, and also into those of the young sailor the mate of a ship who sat beside her.
There is a great big hunt going on in this world, and women are the ones only a short lap ahead. Can we turn and make good the fight or won't we be torn to death? It has come to this it seems: women must either be weak, and cling so close to man that she can't be struck, keep entirely out of the range of his fists and arms, or develop biceps equal to his.
He was aware of a movement of her hand in her lap next to his. Under the screen of the tablecloth he thrust his own hand across and met a firm grip of woman's fingers that sent another wave of warmth through him. "What will Shorty say?" was the thought that flashed whimsically through his mind as he withdrew his hand.
My father, who taught me, is away, and I don't get on very fast alone, for I've no one to correct my pronunciation." "Try a little now. Here is Schiller's Mary Stuart and a tutor who loves to teach." And Mr. Brooke laid his book on her lap with an inviting smile. "It's so hard I'm afraid to try," said Meg, grateful, but bashful in the presence of the accomplished young lady beside her.
This at last rouses me to spring up, to throw my arms around her neck, to hide my head in her bosom, and to say with a sigh: "Ah, dear, darling Mamma, how much I love you!" She smiles her sad, enchanting smile, takes my head between her two hands, kisses me on the forehead, and lifts me on to her lap. "Do you love me so much, then?" she says.
And we are absolutely ignorant as to why they should have emerged from the depth of nature, what that depth really is, or what still remains hidden in her mysterious lap. Neither what nature reveals to us nor what it conceals from us is in any true sense “comprehended,” and we flatter ourselves that we understand her secrets when we have only become accustomed to them.
"I suppose," said she, clasping her fingers together in her lap "I suppose you are all eagerness about to-morrow morning?" "Oh, I am not going shooting to-morrow," said he. "What!" she exclaimed. "To be on a grouse-moor on the Twelfth, and not go out?" "It is because it is the Twelfth; I don't want to spoil sport," said he, modestly. "And I don't want to make a fool of myself either.
Aaron shrank back a little, and rubbed his head against his mother's shoulder, but still thought the piece of cake worth the risk of putting his hand out for it. "Oh, for shame, Aaron," said his mother, taking him on her lap, however; "why, you don't want cake again yet awhile. He's wonderful hearty," she went on, with a little sigh "that he is, God knows.
"Sir, I saw the water lap on the crags." Then spoke the King in great wrath: "Traitor and unkind! Twice hast thou betrayed me! Art dazzled by the splendour of the jewels, thou that, till now, hast ever been dear and true to me? Go yet again, but if thou fail me this time, I will arise and, with mine own hands, slay thee."
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