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Updated: June 14, 2025
He had risen slowly, and was dabbing furtively at his nose with a silk red-and-blue handkerchief the Waterbury colors. "Just a minute," he added, striving to keep his voice from sliding the scale. He was horribly calm, but his gray eyes were quivering as was his lip. "I didn't throw it. I I didn't throw it. I was sick. I I've been sick.
Humbly, most humbly, did that faithful chamberlain, Saturius, lay the results of his mission before his august master, Domitian, who suffering from a severe bilious attack that had turned his ruddy complexion to a dingy yellow, and made the aspect of his pale eyes more unpleasant than usual, was propped up among cushions, sniffing attar of roses and dabbing vinegar water upon his forehead.
And I lost my chance to tell him how much I cared." The riding-crop lay neglected on the floor. It had slipped and clattered down while Barbara sat and stared at the tiny woman who was dabbing at her eyes with a very girlish square of linen. And then slowly Barbara rose and took an uncertain step or two. She sank to her knees and pillowed her head upon Miss Sarah's lap.
I was insensible for a long time, the curate told me, and when I came to we were in darkness again, and he, with a face wet, as I found afterwards, with blood from a cut forehead, was dabbing water over me. For some time I could not recollect what had happened. Then things came to me slowly. A bruise on my temple asserted itself. "Are you better?" asked the curate in a whisper.
"Impertinence to me!" echoed the fop, at the same time dipping the end of the knitting into Diana's lavender-bottle, and dabbing his temples; "she was always too civil by half. I hate forward girls."
Her eyes were wet and she was dabbing at them with a lace handkerchief. Her morning gown was a wondrous creation. "Big Jim," with his iron-gray hair awry and his eyes snapping, looked remarkably wide awake and alive. "How are you, Paine?" he said. "Glad to see you. Sorry to bring you over here, but I had to see you and that doctor says I must stay in this room for a while yet. He may be right.
But it's not good for you, is it? I've made you quite damp. You don't think you'll catch cold?" dabbing at his shoulder with her handkerchief. He took her hand and stayed it. "There is nothing in this world," he said gravely "that I would so gladly do as help you, Cynthia. Will you believe this, and treat me from this stand-point only?" She turned back to the fire, but she left her hand in his.
But the baby's emotions were crude, and probably in no wise connected with the tremors of ship-wreck, whereas Mrs. Somerville, during these full days, was constantly asking herself how it could be possible that she was living at all. "It will be a real manifestation of Providence if we ever reach England again," she cried, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.
Pushing through a swarm into the cot, Fleetwood saw Carinthia on a knee beside a girl's lap, where the stripped child lay. Its mother held a basin for the dabbing at raw red spots. A sting of pain touched the memory of its fright, and brought further screams, then the sobs. Carinthia hummed a Styrian cradle-song as the wailing lulled.
There was silence for several moments which was broken by a rattle, and a stream of whisky and seltzer dripped from the table. "Hallo!" said Forel. "Has anything upset you, Deringham?" Deringham stood up with a little harsh laugh, dabbing It the breast of his shirt with his handkerchief.
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