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Others of that lady's guests were the local Episcopalian clergyman and his wife the former was a placid, dreamy-looking, mild creature, with soft, kindly eyes. He smiled at everybody, was evidently in abject terror of his wife a hard-featured lady about ten years his senior, with high cheek-bones and an exceedingly corrugated neck and shoulders.
Always excepting the retired Piazza, where the Cathedral, Baptistery, and Campanile ancient buildings, of a sombre brown, embellished with innumerable grotesque monsters and dreamy-looking creatures carved in marble and red stone are clustered in a noble and magnificent repose.
She opened a door and called: "Flujencio." "Well, my sister?" A dreamy-looking young man in short jacket and trousers of red silk entered the room, sombrero in one hand, a cigarito in the other. "Flujencio, you know it is said that these 'Yankees' always 'whittle' everything.
I wound up by thanking my father for his devotion to me: I deemed it, I said, excessive and mistaken in the recent instance, but it was for me. Upon this he awoke from his dreamy-looking stupefaction. 'Richie does me justice. He is my dear boy. He loves me: I love him. None can cheat us of that. He loves his wreck of a father. You have struck me to your feet, Mr. Beltham.
And on one side of her stood a gallant gentleman with merry eyes who shouted "Bravo!" and on the other a dreamy-looking lad; but he appeared disappointed, having expected better work from me. And the fourth face I could not see, for it was turned away from me. Barbara, determined on completeness, insisted upon supper.
I wound up by thanking my father for his devotion to me: I deemed it, I said, excessive and mistaken in the recent instance, but it was for me. Upon this he awoke from his dreamy-looking stupefaction. 'Richie does me justice. He is my dear boy. He loves me: I love him. None can cheat us of that. He loves his wreck of a father. You have struck me to your feet, Mr. Beltham.
This is his favourite combination, seen on every page of his work, fancy and fact. Accompanying the second is a portrait made in 1915, exhibiting the face of a dreamy-looking boy. No one who reads the pages of this book can doubt the author's gift.
What rights had he over her life? Absolutely none, of course. He wondered vaguely if she were sly enough to have a sweetheart and let nobody know? Who was that fellow? Where had he met him before? He rose with a sudden frown. Sure as fate the very boy the tall, dreamy-looking youngster who danced with her so many times that night ten years ago at her birthday party!
The owl hooted from a corner of what had once been a belfry, and a dreamy-looking bat flew out from a cranny and struck itself headlong against a projection. Then all was still again. Silence resumed its reign, and if there had been a mortal ear to drink in that sudden sound, the mind might well have doubted if fancy had not more to do with the matter than reality.
One day, Miss Bronte brought down a rough, common-looking oil-painting, done by her brother, of herself, a little, rather prim-looking girl of eighteen, and the two other sisters, girls of sixteen and fourteen, with cropped hair, and sad, dreamy-looking eyes. . . . Emily had a great dog half mastiff, half bull-dog so savage, etc. . . . This dog went to her funeral, walking side by side with her father; and then, to the day of its death, it slept at her room door; snuffing under it, and whining every morning.
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