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Updated: May 16, 2025
Boiled-cauliflower nose in a flabby face veined with purple crinklings. Healthy young gentleman. Fine fresh complexion. Sick young man. His face a ghastly white. No end of people whose skins are dull and characterless modifications of the tint which we miscall white.
As he sat on the bench if a lady passed him with her shoulders back and head up, and looked straight to the front, as if she did not care if all the world did gaze on her, then he studied her bonnet, and by the time it was out of sight he knew the shape of the frame, the color of the trimmings, and the crinklings in the feather. I sometimes try to describe a bonnet, but not always.
Sometimes, again, even when the tints had not changed, after the pricked and labored surface had seemed about to quicken in the heat, to assume the vibratility of living skin, even at the last hour all the labor of the workers proved to have been wasted; for the fickle substance rebelled against their efforts, producing only crinklings grotesque as those upon the rind of a withered fruit, or granulations like those upon the skin of a dead bird from which the feathers have been rudely plucked.
Boiled-cauliflower nose in a flabby face veined with purple crinklings. Healthy young gentleman. Fine fresh complexion. Sick young man. His face a ghastly white. No end of people whose skins are dull and characterless modifications of the tint which we miscall white.
As the light fell upon it he observed again how full it was of varying tones like those found in the crinklings of a satin gown yellow-gold one minute and dark brown the next.
It looked like miles and miles of green rumpled velvet, full of dainty crinklings, mottled with pale maroon, and cuir, purple, and cream-color. "How beautiful is this place!" cried Richard, reverently; "surely this is one of the many mansions of our Father! One would be ashamed to be caught sinning or worrying in it!"
Doors opened on every side, and out they came, one girl after another, so smart and fine that one could hardly recognise them for the blue-serged damsels of ordinary school life. Down the stairs they tripped, with rustlings of silk and crinklings of muslin, dainty white shoes, looking daintier than ever against the well-worn carpet.
Little nervous crinklings began at the roots of his hair and descended his spine that scratching, faint, yet vigorous, did it come from beyond the veil? The scratching ceased. The ensuing silence was portentous. "Open it and look!" commanded the Countess. And Bean forthwith opened it and looked a little way into his dead and dread past.
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