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You carry a crudeness in these colonial manners of yours, Deucalion, that palls on one after the first blunt flavour has worn away. Am I to do all the wooing? Is there no thrill of love under all your ice?" "In truth, I do not know what love may be. I have had little enough speech with women all these busy years."
"Don't look so, child," said Mrs. Whitney at length, "you don't understand, my dear. But you would if you were in my place" "She's sorry for it," said Polly, finding her tongue at last. "And father is nearly worn out with her," continued Mrs. Whitney. "And now to come parading her attentions upon me, it" "Who who?"
It was only when one came to look into it more closely, that it was seen to be scored by numberless small lines. Moreover it was unadorned by either beard or moustache. His hair was grey, and was worn somewhat longer than is usual.
From it the limestone precipices rise abruptly; and in ascending the little stairway along the side of the fall, you step two or three times from the rock on to the other the limestone dry and rough, being worn by the water and rains into sharp ridges and honeycombed holes the basalt moist, even, and worn smooth and slippery by the passage of bare-footed pedestrians.
The face of the prosecuting attorney was also worn, bored, and unexpectant.
She had come in search of Val's desk; which she found, and proceeded to devise means of opening it. That accomplished, she sat herself down, like a leisurely housebreaker, to examine it, putting on a pair of spectacles, which she kept surreptitiously in a pocket, and would not have worn before any one for the world.
Which she only had one snake, and he had been in the business so long, and was so kind of worn out and tired with being charmed so much, it always seemed like a pity to me the way she would take and twist him around. I guess they never was a snake was worked harder fur the little bit he got to eat, nor got no sicker of a woman's society than poor old Reginald did.
History, p. 66. But "the earth helped the woman" another unlooked-for political event. Worn out with the cares of State, boasting that the very name of Christ was abolished, and dying with a loathsome disease, the tyrant abdicated his throne.
"Where is Noel?" she asked. "In his room." She looked up sharply, detecting a hint of grimness in his voice. "Trevor" she halted a little "are you vexed with anybody?" His face softened at her tone. "Never mind now, dear," he said. "You are worn out. Get to bed." She put her hand to her head with a weary gesture. "But why why is Noel in his room?" "Because I sent him there." "You!"
Presents likewise he bids him bring saved from the wreck of Ilium, a mantle stiff with gold embroidery, and a veil with woven border of yellow acanthus-flower, that once decked Helen of Argos, the marvel of her mother Leda's giving; Helen had borne them from Mycenae, when she sought Troy towers and a lawless bridal; the sceptre too that Ilione, Priam's eldest daughter, once had worn, a beaded necklace, and a double circlet of jewelled gold.
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