United States or Egypt ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Things are tested by the emotions they provoke. Wilfrid knew that there was no trifling with Emilia, so he put the letter by, commenting thus "she's right, she doesn't spell badly." Behind, which, to those who have caught the springs of his character, volumes may be seen. He put the letter by.
Flushing with exultation. Her breasts rose and fell. "Splendid! Splendid!" she muttered to herself. Then she turned back into the hall and exclaimed in a peremptory voice, "Come outside and see, Wilfrid; it's wonderful." Some half-stirred; some rose; some dropped their balls of wool and began to stoop to look for them. "To bed to bed," said Miss Allan.
I have seen his picture in shop-windows: the wind seemed in his hair, and he seemed to hear with his eyes: his forehead frowning so. Look at me, and see. So!" Emilia pressed up the hair from her temples and bent her brows. "It does not increase your beauty," said Wilfrid. "There's the difference!" Emilia sighed mildly.
Twelve hundred and fifty years ago a man named Wilfrid sailed along the south coast of a great island in the North Seas. With him in the ship were a hundred and twenty companions. The voyage had started well, but now the captain looked anxious as he peered out under his curved hand, looking first south and then north. There was danger in both directions.
'Of course you asked her in a proper way? 'Why, Philip, of course I did. 'Miss Hood never alters her mind, remarked Patty. 'Never, exclaimed the other twin with decision. 'An admirable characteristic, commented their uncle, 'provided her decision is right to begin with. Beatrice had just led off at a gallop; Wilfrid necessarily followed her.
It has been a fearful shock. Is there anything I can do for you?" For he saw she had a letter in her hand. "Please tell them to send this letter. And then come back. I'll go to the library." She went blindly along the passages to the library, hearing and flying from the voices of Sir Wilfrid and Arthur in the dining-room as she passed.
Athel stepped in straight from the lawn, fresh after his ten minutes' walk about the garden. Wilfrid Athel appeared at the same moment; he was dark-complexioned and had black, glossy hair; his cheeks were hollower than they should have been, but he had not the aspect of an invalid. Mrs. Rossall glided into the room behind him, fresh, fair, undemonstrative.
Joe put on her apron and went to work as usual, while Sir Wilfrid Laurier, who had a poor opinion of lighthouses for winter residences, went to sleep in his pet nook behind the woodbox, a thankful dog that he was done with war-weddings. One cold grey morning in February Gertrude Oliver wakened with a shiver, slipped into Rilla's room, and crept in beside her.
Fallen as Rome might be from its older greatness, it preserved the traditions of civilization, of letters and art and law. Its faith still served as a bond which held together the nations that sprang from the wreck of the Empire. To fight against Rome was, as Wilfrid said, "to fight against the world." To repulse Rome was to condemn England to isolation.
All, with unanimous action, opened their garments and gave to sight their withered bodies, eaten with worms, putrefied, crumbling to dust, rotten with horrible diseases. "You lead the nations to Death," Wilfrid said to them. "You have depraved the earth, perverted the Word, prostituted justice. After devouring the grass of the fields you have killed the lambs of the fold.
Word Of The Day