United States or Japan ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Miss Greene sank back into her chair, suddenly white. One of the young men let a cup of tea fall neatly from his fingers on to the floor and there crash into fragments. The young lady visitor emitted a scream that would have done credit to a factory siren. Then at the open French window appeared a small boy holding a bugle, purple-faced with the effort of his performance.
Rachel took her place at one of the smaller tables and dabbled through a series of uninteresting dishes. An admiring waitress rebuked her ... "Dearie, you ain't eating hardly anything." She smiled at the waitress and watched her later bringing dishes to a purple-faced fat man at an adjoining table.
It wasn't only the steam and their clothes being hidden; it had started with the scare at the spring in the morning, and when they had told him what they thought about that, they went back still further and bellowed about the mismanagement of the place ever since he had taken charge, and the food, and the steam-heat, and the new rules oh, they hated him all right, and they told him so, purple-faced with rage and heat, dancing around him and shaking one fist in his face, as I say, while they held their sheets fast with the other.
I covered enormous distances on the tops of omnibuses, and talked a great deal with their purple-faced drivers, most of whom wore tall hats, and carried nosegays in their coats. When beggars and crossing-sweepers asked, I gave, unhesitatingly, in the Australian fashion, as one gives matches when asked for them.
A purple-faced giant, with thick lips that met like the halves of an English muffin blocked the companion-way. "'Jour," growled the face as though it hated to say it, then pointed to the food and cognac. This was Monsieur le Conducteur, ship's cook, barkeeper, and collector of fares. In the center of a dark cabin, littered with charts, pails, and Flemish newspapers, was a kitchen table.
"My Gawd, son!" gasped Old Bill. "You didn't pick on this hyar crippled boy?" The evidence was plain, in Moore's quiet, pathetic form, in the panting, purple-faced son. Jack Belllounds did not answer. He was in the grip of a passion that had at last been wholly unleashed and was still unsatisfied. Yet a malignant and exultant gratification showed in his face.
There Uncle Denny found Jim, still white and shaken, dressing slowly. "What happened to you, me boy?" asked Uncle Denny, looking at him keenly. Jim sat limply on the edge of a cot and told Dennis what had happened. "The low scoundrel!" roared Uncle Denny. "Leave me get at him!" Jim caught the purple-faced Irishman by the arm. "You are to say nothing to anyone, Uncle Denny.
Holding him so that he might continue to watch the dancing tongues of fire, the girl sat motionless, going over and over again in her mind all that had occurred since the tattered, bleeding, purple-faced climber had come straining up out of the depths.... It could not have happened it was all a hideous dream.... Would they never come? Must she sit here forever alone!
And what could be more unlike that Lantern Yard world than the world in Raveloe? orchards looking lazy with neglected plenty; the large church in the wide churchyard, which men gazed at lounging at their own doors in service-time; the purple-faced farmers jogging along the lanes or turning in at the Rainbow; homesteads, where men supped heavily and slept in the light of the evening hearth, and where women seemed to be laying up a stock of linen for the life to come.
The Mope, purple-faced with rage, little black eyes glittering, mouth working under a flattened nose that some previous encounter had broken and bent over the side of his face, advanced belligerently. Australian Ike, who had entered the room with him, pulled him back. "Ferget it!" he flung out. "Clarie's dealin' the deck. Ferget it!"
Word Of The Day