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Erect and motionless she stood against the wall to let him pass this slim young girl whose sudden and unexpected presence had so electrified him. Her eyes followed him like those of a picture, but she neither bowed nor curtseyed, and the only movement she made was the slight turning of the head and eyes as he went by.
He could not say good-bye to a friend to save his life. There is no shirking that! One must either do it or leave it! Cathcart shrugged his shoulders, and drew a masterly little picture of Langham's life in college. He had succeeded by the most adroit devices in completely isolating himself both from the older and the younger men.
Still, if you can picture Betsey Ross, it was thus perhaps that Betsey looked when first she saw the flag. Or Joan of Arc might once have gazed that way in Orleans' woods. It was in December that Mary's great idea began to assume form. She wrote to the American Ambassadors in Great Britain and France for any documents which they could send her relating to the subject so close to her heart.
For eloquence is a picture of the happenings of human life, every one applying to himself what he hears, by making the case in some measure his own, and the mind receives very willingly that with which it has become familiar.
The whole extent of its surface, from the Flemish to the Brabant shore the scene so lately of deadly combat, and of the midnight havoc caused by infernal enginery was changed, as if by the stroke of a wand, into a picture of sylvan and Arcadian merry-making, and spread with tables laden with delicate viands.
His lady love had failed to keep her tryst and life was very dark." "I don't wonder at her," said Lady Claire unforgivingly. "I'm sure he must have been horrid to her!" "I rather think she was horrid to him," Billy reflected, "although she was a very sprightly looking lady love. He showed me her picture in the back of his watch.... By George!" he uttered violently. "What is it?"
He came up to her, she bent down and kissed him, then put her arm round him and led him away. When they had gone Bohun also went back to bed. The house was very still and peaceful. Suddenly he remembered the picture. It would never do, he thought, if in the morning it were found by Sacha or Uncle Ivan with its face to the wall.
"Eh? Why, boy!" cried Miss Cardigan. "Do you know anybody like it?" said Thorold, laughing. "If you do, you are bound to let me know where, you understand." "What lies between the eyes and mouth?" said Miss Cardigan. "There goes more to a picture."
Silence. "Or smile?" Silence. "Or forget that she was a De Peyster?" Silence. "The lady of that picture never did!" declared the little person with conviction. "She's just dignity and pride calm, remote, lofty, icebergy pride. She can say her ancestors backwards. Why, she's her family tree, petrified!" Mrs. De Peyster did not feel called upon to add to these remarks.
When they returned to town, I thought him rather pleasant, and saw a good deal of him. I had no idea that he was going to play reporter; it seems to me a breach of confidence ignoble." "It is not a picture of you," I said, "but there is a certain likeness."
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