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Mrs Ellis's pleasant countenance grew full of puckers, and she sat in silence, softly patting Mary's shoulder with one hand, holding her tightly with the other, till her husband had ended with "Disgraceful disgraceful, I say. I don't know what Mrs Mostyn would think if she knew."
He has a good many gray hairs, and them puckers under his eyes hasn't come in a day. But he has a young heart, I will say that for him. Did you see how he did that 'double' as pounded half the field?" "Yes, it was a very sporting jump. But who is Mr. Fortescue, and where does he come from?" "That is what nobody seems to know. Mr.
Puckers, or Miss Puckers, as she liked to be called below-stairs, was a little puzzled by her young mistress's abstraction, while she brushed out Maud's wealth of raven hair for the night. Stealing glances at herself in the glass opposite, she could not help observing the expression on Miss Bruce's face. The light was in it once more that had been so quenched by her father's death.
Their cheeks grew hot and the skin on their foreheads was drawn into puckers, but they could not for the life of them think out the answer to such a profound question. Among the larger children, over on the right, there was a general waving of hands, and whispering and tittering; but the eight small beginners held their mouths shut tight and not a sound came from them.
Miss Burr's mouth puckers until it looks like a slit in a lemon. "To be perfectly frank," says she, "I think it unutterably silly of Aunt Cornelia to allow it." "I can see where you're goin' to be a great help," says I. "Stayin' some time, are you?" "That depends," says Myra and the way she snaps at me is almost assault with intent to maim.
"I shall get into horrid disgrace for it, and so I shall for sitting here so long now. I'm always doing wrong. However, I'll risk it if you will." Her manner was playful, almost tender; and Puckers, adding another large infusion of tea, wondered to see her look so soft and kind. A crowded waltz was in course of performance, and the tea-room, but for this preoccupied couple, would have been empty.
And her mother, absorbed by curiosity, contented herself with the reproof implied in a shaken head, and pursed-up lips. A sad and curious change had befallen Mary. She looked older. One week had dimmed her brightness, and little puckers between her eyes were telling a story of anxious care. For gran'ther had been home without her seeing him. Mary felt as if he had repudiated the town.
They couldn't go so, with that nose and those puckers. The thing is not real. It has been atrociously edited. Part is nature's; part, the photographer's; part, even possibly paint and powder." "But the underlying face?" "Is a minx's." I handed her the letter. "This next?" I asked, fixing my eyes on her as she looked. She read it through. For a minute or two she examined it.
It had still a rosy bloom, but the puckers overspread it, precisely like an apple's after fervent heat. They shook hands, Jerry having extracted a gnarled member from his mitten. "You take a look an' see 'f your trunk's come," he recommended, restoring his hand to its beautifully knit sheath. "You're better acquainted with the looks on't than I be. There 'tis now. Anyways it's the only one there."
His little freckled face was wrinkled into a hundred shrewd puckers, and his eyes were two twinkling pin-points of sharpness. He seemed to thrust their glance into Alwin, as he advanced to meet his visitors; and the men who were helping him paused and looked at the thrall with expectant grins. Rolf said blandly, "Greeting, Thorgrim Svensson! We have come to see your horse-fight.
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