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She was scanning him with a look that was acid to eat out any untruth in his face. "Yes it just came." She held it out to him. He looked at the front of the envelope, then up to her half-shut eager eyes eyes curiously hardened now then he blushed flagrantly a thorough, riotous blush and reached for the letter with a pitiful confusion of manner, not again raising his uneasy eyes to hers.
It was a long, blackened wooden building, and in spite of the late hour there were lights in the windows and signs of life within. He went in and asked a ragged fellow who met him in the corridor for a room. The latter, scanning Svidrigailov, pulled himself together and led him at once to a close and tiny room in the distance, at the end of the corridor, under the stairs.
Soon the village came in sight, nestled in the laps of the green hills on both sides of the river. Timothy trudged bravely on, scanning all the dwellings, but finding none of them just the thing.
"How?" In a few concise words he explained, scanning the other's face eagerly. Gaston showed nothing. He had passed the apogee of irritation. "A model?" he questioned drily. "Well, if you put it that way. 'Portrait' sounds better. It shall be Gaston Belward, gentleman; but we will call it in public, 'Monmouth the Trespasser." Gaston did not wince. He had taken all the revenge he needed.
"Besides, who cares about a few patches? I feel a lot more civilized in my own clothes, don't you?" "Well ... yes," she admitted. "They're silk, anyway, even if they don't look like much, and I'm just reveling in the feel of them next to me after the horrible, rough, scratchy things I've been wearing. See anything yet?" "Not yet." Stevens had been scanning the heavens with a pair of binoculars.
He proceeded with his task, however, searching methodically amongst the rocks, scanning the pebbly beach with his torch, always amazed that nowhere could he find the slightest trace of what he sought. Finally, drenched to the skin and utterly exhausted, he commenced once more the upward climb. He was an hour reaching the end of the rope. Then he blew the whistle and the rest was easy.
The captain had not long come up the companion; and, after looking aloft and to the northward, scanning the horizon around, had stepped up to the binnacle, where he stood contemplating the compass hopelessly, as if he had given up all idea of the wind coming, while the hands of the watch on duty were listlessly idling about the waist of the ship, dead weary of having nothing to do.
Meantime, he was content to make a study of her, sitting evening after evening either in conversation with her father or listening while she played and sang, but always watching her every movement, scanning every play of her features. "A loose rein for the present," he would say to himself, with a smile; "but by and by, my lady, you will find whether or no I am master!"
"Captain," said the grizzled one, who had been scanning the crew intently, "I'd pay that crew off if I were you; you ought to ha' let 'em run, or worked 'em out and saved their pay. Look at 'em look at the devils in their eyes. I notice your mates seldom turn their backs on 'em. I'd get rid of 'em." "What! Just when we have them under control and useful? Oh, no!
Tom Peters, leaning over the ornamental cast-iron fence which separated his front yard from the street, presently spied me scanning the sidewalk. "What are you looking for, Hugh?" he demanded with interest. "Oh, something I dropped," I answered uneasily. "What?" Naturally, I refused to tell.
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