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With a soft cry she went to him, and nestled her head against his breast unnoticed. “Father, father, don’t!” she cried. But her father went on without seeming to see her. “To be disgraced and deserted and dishonored by my own child! Something must be done. Send the servants! Let the wedding be stopped!”
A minute passed, and yet neither he nor she could speak. She stood with her hands clasped round his neck, and her head resting on his breast just below the shoulder, as if she were saying tender words to the heart she heard beating so loud through the soft black velvet.
Oh, you may as well, Mr. Hodges. I never came to you and took away your little bit of light and your little bit of sleep. So you can take my hand if I can give it you. You will be sorry afterward if you say no." "There it is what the better are you for that, you young fool? I'll tell you what it is, you are turning soft. I don't know what to make of you.
The following mixture may be applied in obstinate cases: oil of tar and soft soap, two parts each, and alcohol one part. COMMON FEED RASHES. This title includes inflammation of the skin caused by pasturing on buckwheat, certain clovers and rape, together with moisture and sunlight. Green, flowering buckwheat is more dangerous as a feed for stock than is the grain or straw.
It was reinforced by the large mollycoddle vote the people who are soft physically and morally, or who have a twist in them which makes them acidly cantankerous and unpleasant as long as they can be so with safety to their bodies.
A tall, well-developed form, a round, sweet face, and that peculiarly soft, melodious voice which belongs to the women of her people, would have attracted the attention of a stranger, while the pensive expression of her countenance irresistibly drew the hearts of all towards her, and prompted the wish to know more of her history. As I received it from her friend, Mrs.
Michael Duveen grew black with wrath, and, taking up a heavy dish from the table, he hurled it at the poor, foolish woman. As he did so the door opened and Flamby came in. The dish, crashing against the edge of the door, was shattered and a fragment struck Flamby's bare arm, inflicting a deep wound. Like a cloak discarded, Duveen's wrath fell from him at sight of the blood on that soft round arm.
The governor of the distant Siberian town was that same man who had been so much talked about in Petersburg at the time Nekhludoff was there. He was plump, with thin, curly hair, soft blue eyes, carefully-tended white hands, with rings on the fingers, a pleasant smile, and very big in the lower part of his body.
Emigration Jane wondered at herself, she did, as 'ad bin such a reg'ler soft as to be took in by one to whom she never referred in speech except as "That There Green." That she softened to him in her weaker moments, in spite of his remembered appetite for savings and his regrettable multiplicity of wives, gave her the fair hump.
That was a foolish thing to do, but it seemed to him that he just couldn't help it. He would stamp his feet angrily and thrash the bushes with his great spreading antlers as if they were an enemy with whom he was fighting. More than once when he did this a pair of great, soft, gentle eyes were watching him, though he didn't know it.
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