United States or Mali ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Bright that awful-looking person who came to the last Council meeting?" "He is probably the person you mean," Fenn assented. "He takes very little interest in our executive work, but he is one of the most brilliant scientists of this or any other generation.
The lower jaw had fallen in an awful-looking way; but Violet had seen her father look like that sometimes as he slept, with open mouth, before the hall fire. It might be only a long swoon, a suspension of consciousness. Dr. Martin would come presently oh, how long, how long the time seemed and make all things right. The crescent moon shone silver pale above that dim gray wood.
He thought of stories he had read of lonely turrets in which men were beheaded, and otherwise made away with. It seemed he would never come to the top, and when at last he did it was to find two of the most awful-looking eyes he had ever seen eyes that looked as though furies were going to escape from them peering down upon him.
Three or four of the snorting, galloping monsters had just finished their journey, and there was a quantity of flaming ashes lying under the brazen bellies of each that looked properly lurid and demoniacal. The men at the station came out with flaming torches awful-looking fellows indeed!
Tea and some palatable baked persimmon very like figs when baked were brought me by an awful-looking biped who was still in mourning, his unshaven skull sadly betokening the fact.
He is lecturing the Bursch, who looks sufficiently foolish. The other is a portly and awful-looking personage in uniform, evidently the Polizeirath of those parts, armed with the just terrors of the law: but Justice has, if not her eyes bandaged, at least her hands tied; for on his arm hangs Sabina, smiling, chatting, entreating. The Polizeirath smiles, bows, ogles, evidently a willing captive.
"What's this a clinic?" he asked. "You can't go aboard that awful-looking ship without letting me give you a fresh dressing," she declared. "Lord love you, angel of mercy, I'm all right!" "It was for me. Even now you are in pain. Please!" "Pain?" he repeated. For one more touch of her tender hands! To carry the thought of that through the long, hot night!
I EXTRACT a few notes from my journal: "March 25, 1862. Mai Gubba is about twelve miles E.N.E. of our camp. "March 27. We started for the Bahr Salaam, and said good-bye to Mek Nimmur, as we passed his position on our march; he had given us a guide; an awful-looking scoundrel.
One day Billy, who was leaning over the side, gave a sharp cry and drew back from the bulwarks. "Come here, fellows ugh, what an awful-looking thing," he cried. He pointed down at the sea. The others rushed to his side, and as they gazed into the water, which was as clear as crystal for a considerable depth, they felt like echoing his exclamation of repulsion.
From Monte Carlo I scooted right up to Paris. Two days later, as I intended to write you but didn't, I caught the boat-train for Cherbourg. And there at the rail as I stepped on the Baltic was the Other Man, to wit, Duncan Argyll McKail, in a most awful-looking yellow plaid English mackintosh.
Word Of The Day