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A woman ought to be of the kindred of the old seeresses, and by the divine ichor or the animal instinct in her know when the supreme moment of love approached. But what kind of love was this coming to Kitty? He twanged the strings just over her head, to keep her from hearing, but quite out of tune, he was so agitated with the criticalness of the moment.
He was conducted to a chamber, and, the criticalness of his case requiring unusual attention, I spent the night at his bedside. My wife was encumbered with the care both of her infant and her family. The charming babe was in perfect health, but her mother's constitution was frail and delicate.
When Count Malvesi returned, he found Mr. Falkland established almost as an inmate of the Pisani palace. His mind could not fail to be struck with the criticalness of the situation.
Pig let me speak his praise is no less provocative of the appetite, than he is satisfactory to the criticalness of the censorious palate. The strong man may batten on him, and the weakling refuseth not his mild juices. Unlike to mankind's mixed characters, a bundle of virtues and vices, inexplicably intertwisted, and not to be unravelled without hazard, he is good throughout.
I could not make you comprehend the criticalness of our position. I feel as if we were suspended by the finest thread between heaven and earth, for there is nothing very solid under our feet and only a sea of ether over our heads. This description is wholly inadequate to interpret the sensation or the uncertainty. Can you imagine what it would be like?
"If Ginny Cox is found out, she can't play in the game against the South High," was on more than one tongue. Gyp, deeply impressed by the criticalness of the situation, summoned a meeting of the Ravens. Her face was very tragic. "Girls it's the chance for the Ravens to do something for the Lincoln School!
Falkland himself. I was glad to escape from the uneasiness of my reflections; and, while engaged with this new friend, I forgot the criticalness of the evils with which I was hourly menaced. Stimulated by these feelings, I was what Mr.
"What in the world have I said now?" "You can't be Mary Carstairs!" he cried. "Is that so terrible?" she laughed, a little uncertainly. But he recovered in a flash, aware of the criticalness of that moment, and met her bewildered gaze steadily. "Terrible? Certainly not. Your name surprised me a little. That was all. I thought, you see, that you were somebody else." "Yes? Who?"
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