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At home my sister and I have a very quiet time, and we get most of our excitement in dreams. We imagine things until they are almost real. Don't you know the feeling?" "No!" cried Mr Melland bluntly. His brows were arched, his nostrils curved with the old look of scornful superiority. "I have no experience of the kind, and I don't want to have. It's a dangerous habit.
Margaret's color had fluctuated painfully for the last few minutes; she now sat down on a chair near the open window, and turned so pale that her mother thought her about to faint. Lady Caroline was on her feet immediately, and began to fan her, and to hold smelling salts to her nostrils; but in a very short time the girl's color returned, and she declined any further remedies.
As well say that the cataleptic trance of the pointer, when the game bird lies close and the delicate scent fills his nostrils, is not a joy to him, or that the Dalmatian at the heels of his horse, or the foxhound when Reynard's trail is warm, receive no pleasure from their specialties.
For one of the Salariki, who had continually manifested their belief that Terrans and their ship were an offence to the nostrils of all right living "men," to wish to enter the spacer was an astonishing about-face. But any advantage no matter how small, which might bring about a closer understanding, must be seized at once.
She had altered as though under the deft hand of a master-sculptor, her nostrils growing thin and arched, her lips tight pressed and pitiless, her head poised proudly. The rain drove in through the shattered window, over and past her, while the cheap red curtain lashed and whipped her as though in gleeful applause.
Then she noticed for the first time that his face showed the marks of suffering. It was as if it had dropped suddenly the brilliant mask it wore for her, and given up its secret unaware. He had suffered so that he had not slept. It was plain to her in the droop of his eyelids, and in the drawn lines about his eyes and mouth and nostrils.
He was throttled, battling, distraught. About him was the rush and smother of waters. A secret power clutched him about the waist and tugged him back. For the first time in his life he felt the aweful and inexorable grip of Necessity; and his heart screamed. Then with a bob and a gasp, he was up; the water in his nostrils; and his hands clinging to a spar.
At another time he might have smiled; now the situation had for him nothing of the comic; it was tragically grim, also decidedly unpleasant. A strong odor of gasolene permeated his nostrils until he was nearly suffocated by it and all the dust, stirred by their flight, swirled up on him, making it difficult to refrain from coughing.
With head down, eyes on fire and nostrils blood-red, he bore straight upon me. My broncho reared, then sprang aside. Leaning over to take sure aim, I fired, but a side jerk unbalanced me. I lost my stirrup and sprawled in the dust. When I got to my feet, the buffalo lay dead and my broncho was trotting back. Hunters were still tearing after the disappearing herd.
They were in a panic of fear, fancying themselves trapped. I was flung against Bothwell, his furious face so close to mine that the hot breath filled my nostrils. We tried to grip each other, but in the huddle we were thrust apart. Suddenly the room was no longer full, I could see that the enemy was in flight. Before I reached the open I knew that the day was won.
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