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It is further suggested as a reason that the bodily form of Oriental peoples is essentially unæsthetic; that the men are either too fat or too lean, and the women too plump when in the bloom of youth and too wrinkled and flabby when the first bloom is over. The absurdity of this suggestion raises a smile, and a query as to the experience which its author must have had.
But here were boys who had died, boys at nineteen. And the lists of missing startled her. One morning she read in the personal column a query, asking if any one could give the details of the death of a young subaltern. She cried over that. In all her care-free life never before had she wept over the griefs of others. Cecil had sent her his photograph taken in his uniform.
At his query she made a sudden effort to bring her thoughts back from the past to the present, to drag her heart and her aching brain away from that half-hour spent in the hall, from that conversation with her friend, from the recollection of that terribly cruel blow which she had been forced to deal to the man who loved her best in all the world.
Deigning no notice to a query which he did not understand, the young fellow set off to northward, followed closely by the two women. "Keep close to him, Phoebe," said Rebecca, warningly. "Ef we should lose the man in all this rabble o' folks we would not find him in a hurry." "Thou seest, sweet sister," Phoebe replied, "'tis indeed our beloved city of London.
Query, might not the cold bath instantly stop hæmorrhages from the lungs in inflammatory cases? for the shortness of breath of those, who go suddenly into cold water, is not owing to the accumulation of blood in the lungs, but to the quiescence of the pulmonary capillaries from association, as explained in Section XXXII. 3. 2.
"Clio would tell you she could take care of herself at the stables as well as anywhere else." "Query?" said Lady Tyrrell. "Don't get into a scrape, Bessie. Does your Captain report on the flirtation with young Simmonds?" "Who is he?" asked Cecil "The trainer's son," said Bessie. "It is only a bit of imitation of Aurora Floyd." "You know she's an heiress," said Lady Tyrrell.
Dead silence recalled the strangeness of it. The night was breathless; their open window a peril bestowing no boon. They were mutually haunted by sound of the gloomy query at the nostrils of each when drawing the vital breath. But for that, they thought they might have slept. Bed spake to bed: 'The words of Mr. Stuart Rem last Sunday! 'He said: "Be just." Could one but see direction!
And they were no longer in Mayfair, but must have taken a house in some poorer part of London. This thought cast me down tremendously. And Dorothy! Had time changed her? 'Twas with that query on my lips I fell asleep, to dream of the sun shining down on Carvel Hall and Wilmot House; of Aunt Hester and Aunt Lucy, and a lass and a lad romping through pleasant fields and gardens.
About this time rebellious voices were beginning to make themselves heard in the literary wilderness proclaiming liberty liberty of the sexes. There were Russian novels and French novels, and pioneer English novels preaching liberty with Nietzschean stridency, or taking it for granted. I picked these up on Nancy's table. "Reading them?" she said, in answer to my query. "Of course I'm reading them.
The causes of the difficulty and the political complications disturbed him little; but the probable prospect of the heads of the rebellion losing their property engrossed his mind. He constantly returned to this; it would be confiscated, doubtless; yet the assertion was an evident implied query to me, to which I could give no positive answer.
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