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But a name for blue he applied to many other colors, shading from violet to green. A name for red followed a succession of colors all the way from scarlet to pink. A name for yellow he applied to dark orange and thence to a list of colors through to yellow’s lightest and most delicate tint.
And you may not know it, but you have a wonderfully fine skin, my dear; it always puts me in mind of fresh cream." "Cream is yellow," I said. "Not all the cream that ever I saw," said Mrs. Sandford. "Daisy, you need not laugh. You will be a queen, my dear, when you cease to be a child. What are you going to wear to-night?" "I don't know, ma'am; anything cool, I suppose."
His presence was so quiet, almost like a vacancy in the corporate air. Suddenly he lifted his face to her, and her heart quickened at the flicker of his voice. 'Give them some crayons, won't you? he said, 'so that they can make the gynaecious flowers red, and the androgynous yellow. I'd chalk them in plain, chalk in nothing else, merely the red and the yellow.
Presently Joan saw a huge mound of dull, gleaming yellow. The color of it leaped to the glinting eyes of the bandits. And it seemed to her that a shadow hovered over them. The movements of Kells grew tense and hurried. Beads of sweat stood out upon his brow. His hands were not steady. Soon larger bags were distributed to the bandits.
For the filling, grate the yellow part of the rind of two oranges and mix it with the juice and one coffeecup of powdered sugar; spread, this mixture between the cakes; frost the cake, using the two remaining whites of eggs beaten thoroughly, adding two small cups of powdered sugar. From MRS. MARY C. HARRISON, of Wyoming, Lady Manager.
Every one wishes to see Mr Hope married, every one, even to the servants here, who are always disputing whether he will not have Miss Sophia, or whether Miss Sophia is not to make a grander match. Sophia will not do for him; but it is very possible that one of these girls may. And the other but I will not think about that to-day. How yellow the glow is upon those woods!
It was a short document, written with ferocious directness, as a kind of public challenge or taunt to the man whom he wrongly deemed to be the author of his misfortunes. It ran as follows: "CAPTAIN CRESAP: "What did you kill my people on Yellow Creek for? The white people killed my kin at Conestoga, a great while ago, and I thought nothing of that.
On the following day the whole band of whites prepared to march off and attack Logan's camp at Yellow Creek, some fifty miles distant.
Svendsen's cap lurched dreamily from side to side to the flowing measure of the dance. "Of days that have as ha-a-p-py been, And you'll remember me." The moonlight flooded that great, silent land. The reaped fields lay yellow in it. The straw stacks and poplar windbreaks threw sharp black shadows. The roads were white rivers of dust.
In fact, he was quite sure that when Granny Pyetangle was ill that winter, the china dog was conscious of the fact, and looked at him with its yellow eyes full of compassion and sympathy. Poor Granny Pyetangle was certainly very ill.
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