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Aunt Trudy began to cry and Doctor Hugh pushed back his plate. "Please leave the table, Rosemary," he said distinctly. "Go into the office and wait for me." Rosemary rushed from the table like a whirlwind and the house shook as she banged the office door. "I don't care!" she raged, in the depths of the comfortable shabby arm-chair that had been her father's. "I don't care!
She lived her quiet days, worried about Jim on occasion, hemmed table napkins for her linen chest, and slept at night with her ring on her finger and a sense of being wrapped in protecting love that was no longer limited to the white Wheeler house, but now extended two blocks away and around the corner to a shabby old brick building in a more or less shabby yard.
We put it here because Augustus did not want anything the least shabby up at The Hall, and I take it kind of you to have cared for it so." Grandmamma's face never changed; not the least twinkle came into her eye she is wonderful. I could hardly keep from gurgling with laughter and was obliged to make quite an irritating rattle with the teaspoons. Grandmamma frowned at that.
And once outside the shabby little palings, she returned no more for hours. Along the scorching streets she wandered, debating within herself anxious questions which, she felt, affected all her future, and unfitting herself still further to reach that just and wise conclusion she desired to compass. She could not altogether abstract her mind, despite the interests which she had at stake.
In his large, shabby, fairly expensive furnished room on Seventy-fifth Street he spent unwilling evenings, working on Touricar plans, or reading French French technical motor literature, light novels, Balzac, anything. He tried to keep in physical form, and, much though the routine and silly gestures of gymnasium exercises bored him, he took them three times a week.
This innermost room had a shabby carpet, the windows were hung with gray holland curtains; the furniture consisted of a few mahogany chairs, two armchairs, a desk with a revolving front, an ordinary office table, and on the chimney-shelf, a dingy clock and two old candlesticks.
Why, what a wonderful thing these taxicabs are! You see, we have arrived." They secured a small table in a corner at Imano's, and Tavernake found himself curiously moved as he watched Beatrice take off her worn and much mended gloves and look around uneasily at the other guests. Her clothes were indeed shabby, and there were hollows now in her cheeks.
Just at dusk one cold, rainy night late in August, a shabby, weary, wet, old man plodded through the dripping woods, across the stone bridge, and up the road toward Parker. He had come a long way through mud and moisture, and was very tired, yet the first three farmhouses he passed by with scarcely a glance.
With a sigh, is about to sit down in the rocking-chair. Before she is seated realizes what chair it is; with a slow look at it, steps back. You could help me carry them. MRS PETERS: My, it's cold in there. I think maybe that's why she kept so much to herself. She didn't even belong to the Ladies Aid. I suppose she felt she couldn't do her part, and then you don't enjoy things when you feel shabby.
After walking round the cathedral, we went up a narrow and crooked street, very old and shabby, but with an antique house projecting as much as a yard over the pavement on one side, a timber house it seemed to be, plastered over and stained yellow or buff.
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