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There's a character in it called Doctor Pangloss, who thought that everything was for the best in this best of all possible worlds." Uncle Chris felt a touch of embarrassment. It occurred to him that he had been betrayed by his mercurial temperament into an attitude which, considering the circumstances, was perhaps a trifle too jubilant. He gave his mustache a pull, and reverted to the minor key.
The younger man had a jet-black mustache with long, drooping ends. Both wore red shirts, open at the neck, with sleeves rolled above the elbows. The younger held a half-smoked cigar, while his companion grasped a large fork, which he evidently had been using on the fish. For a few seconds the two couples regarded each other in silence. Then the man with the black mustache smiled ingratiatingly.
"He even gave me forty sous, to make sure I would do the errand." "Was he young or old?" "A very handsome man, wearing the ribbon, with a mustache and side-whiskers black as ink, and dressed like a prince, not counting his elegant cabriolet." Louis went out more perplexed than ever.
"What is there in woman that makes trifles so important?" she asked Isabelle in a rare effusion of truth-speaking. "Why do some voices correct and well-bred ones exasperate you, and others, no better, fill you with content, comfort? Why do little acts the way a man holds a book or strokes his mustache annoy you?
"Well, one day, when we was out on the range a ridin' for stock she'd often go with me that way we met a stranger over there at the deer lick in the big low gap, coming along the Old Trail. He was as fine a lookin' man as you ever see, sir; big and grand like, with lightish hair, kind, of wavy, and a big mustache like his hair, and fine white teeth showing when he smiled.
"I gave the man my card," said the stranger, in a tone as faded as his mustache. He was a long, thin man, but what the Germans style "sehr korrect." "I didn’t wait to get it," the hostess said. "I supposed that, of course, it was somebody that I knew." "That was natural," he admitted. There was a slight pause of awkwardness. "Won’t you sit down?" she asked.
"You couldn't keep him away, Arline; he would be afraid he might miss something, because I suppose ours is the only ranch in the country where the wheels aren't turning smoothly. Polycarp and I can manage." Hank, grinning under his ragged, brown mustache, handed her the lines. "I've got my orders," he told her briefly. "I'll watch out the trail's kept clear." "Oh, thank you.
"I don't know who he is I'm such a newcomer in the neighborhood, you know; but I happened to see him from my window across the way a short, dapper-looking young chap with a small, dark mustache." "Oh! that man." Her lip curled disdainfully. "That's Charley Pennold. He's no friend of mine. He just comes to see Father now and again on business. I don't bother to talk to him.
Above the mantelpiece a stick-rack was affixed to the wall, and here were sticks and riding-whips. Steinmetz selected a heavy whip. His eyes were shot with blood; his mouth worked beneath his mustache. "So," he said, "I am going to settle with you at last." De Chauxville kicked and struggled, but he could not get free. He only succeeded in half choking himself.
Newman stood a moment, twisting his mustache and looking at her; then he abruptly turned away. But this was not because he was afraid to go in though he doubted whether, if he did so, he should be able to make his way, unchallenged, into the presence of Madame de Cintre's relatives. Confidence excessive confidence, perhaps quite as much as timidity prompted his retreat.
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