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Updated: June 22, 2025
But have patience, and keep your eye single, and your hands clean, and you will learn some day to sing it yourself, without needing any man to teach you. And as Tom neared the island, there sat upon a rock the most graceful creature that ever was seen, looking down, with her chin upon her hand, and paddling with her feet in the water.
Norman placed his fingers under Sylvia's chin, and tipped it up so that he could gaze into her eyes. "Child, do you love him?" he asked gravely. "Oh, father!" whispered Sylvia, and said no more. The expression of her eyes was enough for Aaron, and he turned away with a sigh. "You know nothing about him," he said at length.
Immediately below him, in a front pew, sat his mother, a dried little old woman, with beady black eyes and a pointed chin, which jutted out from between the stiff taffeta strings of her poke bonnet.
For the pink spots on his chin and forehead was baby pink, and the white of his cheeks and ears was a clear, waxy white, like he'd been made up by an artist. Then, the thin gray hair, cropped so close the pink scalp glimmered through; and the wide mouth with the quirky corners; and the greenish pop-eyes with the heavy bags underneath well, that was a map to remember.
She shook the dust out of the silk dress, and then looked round, to see in what sort of a place she was. She was a stout woman, of about thirty-six, full-blown and delightful to look at. She could hardly breathe, as her stays were laced too tightly, and their pressure forced the heaving mass of her superabundant bosom up to her double chin.
Set to work!" Instead of going he stood there, gently washing his hands with imaginary soap and water, and finally said, "You will of course, sir, be very angry if I do not do as you bid me." "I shall, William," said I, lathering away at my chin. "I may take it, sir, that you'll blow my brains out if I don't." "Blow your Oh, I see!
Morgan's disabled hand was bandaged; there was a cross of surgical tape on his chin, closing a deep cut where some citizen had tapped him with a revolver in the last fight of that tumultuous day. Little groups of desolate, disheartened people stood along the line of hitching racks; dead coals, which the wind had sown as living fire over the square, littered the white dust.
"Good Heavens!" cried Crystal. "You are Ben Moreton! Why didn't I see it sooner? I'm Crystal Cord," and, lifting up her chin, she laughed. That she could laugh as the gulf opened between them seemed to him terrible. He turned his head away. She stopped laughing. "You don't think it's amusing?"
And the old doctor blew his nose hard to hide the trembling of his chin. But no chair, no amount of tulips and hyacinths, could make up to Fanny the loss of her body. And Green Valley knew this.
"And what made you think you would suit us?" "Well, sir," stammered Reginald, "you wanted respectable intelligent young men and and I thought I that is, I hoped I might answer that description." Mr Medlock took one hand out of his pocket and stroked his chin. "Have you been in the printing trade long?" "Only a few weeks, sir." "What were you doing before that?" Reginald flushed.
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