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An almost boyish sensation of sheer happiness invaded him. It made him feel splendidly, untalkative. And he felt for a moment, too, as if his intellect lay down to sleep. "Cara Giulia!" he added, after a rapturous silence. "What?" "Carissima Giulia!" "Yes, Giulia is "
I wanted to tell you here, dearest one, cara, carissima, how I love you how my love for you is 'eternal at my heart' and my soul all there is of me." He took both her hands, and when his eyes had said again to her eyes what his lips had just spoken, they both looked up at the words on the marble tablet.
The same remark applies to poor Reggie here. Haven't we succeeded well enough for you?" "Well, yes, you managed the big thing all right, but that's not everything. You managed the big thing so well that the police are utterly baffled and don't know which way to look. But the stones, carissima, the sparkling stones. What of them?" The woman gave a shrug of her ivory shoulders.
Bit hard on me, but fortunately for you, Janie Janet, I'm rather a dab at languages 'specially when it comes to what the late lamented Boche referred to as 'cosy names. Querida mi alma, douchka, Herzliebchen, carissima; and bien, bien-aimée, I'll not run out of salutations for you this side of heaven no nor t'other. I adore the serene grace with which you ignore the ravishing Liane.
Under these were the faded photographs of several men and women of whom she knew nothing. Lastly, there was half a letter written to Molly dated in August and left unfinished and without a signature: "CARISSIMA: "I am far from well, but I believe Dr. Larrone has found out the cause and will soon put things right again. If you ever hear anything about me from Dr.
These things were no affectation with him, but natural as breathing, part and parcel of his personality. She could hear him now say "carissima" in that low, deep-cadenced, musical voice of his and the word seemed very sweet and beautiful to her as it sang in her heart and she read it in the dashing script upon the paper. He was desolated without her, he wrote. Nothing was worth while.
And then once again the memory of Giovanni's high-bred charm, no less than of his great estate, which she was now asked to share, seemed to hold a spell of enchantment. His words, "Carissima, I love you," swept through her memory with a thrill that the spoken words themselves had failed to carry. She laid her cheek down on the dog's great head, her mouth close to a pointed ear.
Tell me you love me." It was the old, old plea, but in Tony's ears it was immortally new. "I love you, Alan. I didn't want to. I have fought it all along as you know. But it was no use. I do love you." "My darling! And I love you. You don't know how I love you. It is like suddenly coming out into sunshine after having lived in a cave all my life. Will you marry me to-morrow, carissima?"
It had not availed her, and she had nothing else. She was stripped now, naked, alone and defenceless in a hard world. "Carissima, be still. Have patience. I love you, and I shall come for you," whispered Tor di Rocca, and she tried to believe him, and to persuade herself that the flame in his brown eyes would burn for her always.
Yet I should have thought that a preference for my own world, even were it wholly irrational, might seem at least natural and pardonable." "People don't," she answered simply, "like any sign of individual fancy or opinion. They don't like any one to show that he thinks them wrong even on a matter of taste." "I fear, then, carissima, that I must be content with unpopularity.
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