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I rested high up on a slope, in the lee of a rugged rock, all rust-stained and gray-lichened, with a deep cactus-covered cañon to my left, the long, yellow, windy slope of wild oats to my right, and beneath me the Pacific, majestic and grand, where the great white rollers moved in graceful heaves along the blue.
"Adrian Bagot, I will return your duster to you," Jack went on, walking forward and passing the rust-stained automobile garment to young Bagot. "I had to borrow it from your room, but I am through with it now. You may also have your spark plug, and this rag I had to take from your wrist rather unceremoniously last night." "You're a thief!" burst out Adrian, but Jack stopped him with a gesture.
A violet upon a mossy bank, a bough of apple blossoms mirrored in a pool, the blood upon some rust-stained sword, a woman waiting, somewhere, for a lover who does not come." "And her soul?" "Drawn back into the Universal soul, to be born anew, in part or all." "What a pagan you are!" "Yes," she responded, smiling a little, "I am pagan and heathen and Christian martyr and much else.
"Well, you only love half of it, the Southern half." "I love my whole country!" cried Vivia, all aflame. "I love these purple, rust-stained granites here, the great savannas there, the pine forests, the sea-like prairies, every river rolling down its rocky bed, every inch of its beautiful, glorious soil, all its proud, free people. I love my whole country!" "Only you hate some of its parasites.
They wore aprons tied about the neck, like the bibs of our childhood, or about the waist, like the coquettish articles which young housewives affect. But there was no coquetry in these great flaps of leather or canvas, and they were besmeared and rust-stained quite beyond any bib that ever suffered under bread-and-molasses or mud-pie treatment.
But the chain was stretched straight and stiff as a lance, she could not untwist it. She was still struggling, with pink fingers bruised and rust-stained, when something heavy crashed through the saplings and a voice cried close to her: "Drop it! What are you doing?" and a hand fell on the chain. Betty, at bay, raised her head.
Water, rust-stained or black and fetid, stagnated in pools and shell-holes. The sides of the trench were moist with iridescent slime. Dead soldiers lay everywhere with grey faces, grey hands and mouldering uniforms. Their pockets were turned inside out and mud-stained letters and postcards, and sometimes a mildewed pocket-book or a broken mirror, were dispersed round every rotting corpse.
Mark well the man with the high nose and flaxen beard who hath placed his hand upon the shoulder of the dark hard-faced cavalier in the rust-stained jupon." "Aye, by St. Paul!" observed Sir Nigel, "they both bear the print of their armor upon their cotes-hardies. Methinks they are men who breathe freer in a camp than a court."
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