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"Confident hain't plum sartain. Ef thar's any slip-up, what then?" Will Turk shrugged his shoulders and shook a grave head. He was sitting with the deeply meditative expression of one who views life and its problems with a sober sense of human responsibility, and the long fingertips of one hand rested against the tips of the other.
"Sit down," she said, ceasing to bite at her fingertips, as was her habit when perturbed. "Tell me about Heart's Desire." "Well, Heart's Desire, ma'am," said Tom Osby, "why, it ain't much. It's mostly men." "But how do you live? What do you do?" "Well, now, I hadn't ever thought of that. But now you mention it, I can't say I really know. The fellers all seem to get along, somehow."
It was a disturbing thought, but it brought a sparkle to his eyes and an electric force to his fingertips: he raised his head and looked out into the September night as if there was stirring in him the restless sap of spring. After all he was still a young man. Forty years more!
Here, take it, child, and warm thy heart; 'tis the true milk of Ararat, and the last thou'lt taste this side the Channel. Then I drank too, but lightly, for the good liquor was no stranger to me, though it was only so few months ago that I had tasted it for the first time in the Why Not? and in a minute it tingled in my fingertips.
It was one of the scrupulous things he had done for her, because she had been too ignorant to do them for herself. He had seen she was grown-up. Aunt Anne was jealous to her fingertips, the ends of those beautiful, delicately prisoning hands. Nan had tried never to acknowledge that. It always seemed such a barbarity to find in Aunt Anne the things that would have shocked her in herself.
Drake was standing by the chimney-piece holding at arm's length a pencil sketch of a woman's beautiful face and lithe figure. "Like herself alive to the fingertips," he thought, and then he propped it against the pier-glass. There was a sound of the opening and closing of the outer door downstairs, and Lord Robert entered the room. He looked heated, harassed, and exhausted.
You can charge the discovery of the body up to our old friend, Anonymous Tip, can't you?" "Sure." McKenna accompanied Rand to the front door, past the white chalked outline that marked the original position of the body. The body itself, with ink-blackened fingertips, lay to one side, out of the way.
To which she answered, "Really? You are very particular. It seems to me it's real enough if I let you touch one of my fingertips! This may seem to contradict what I said just now about her taking the young lieutenant in the navy seriously. What I mean is that she appeared to take him more seriously than she took anything else.
"If you came by relays for twenty-four hours," said the doctor, numbering his points upon accurate fingertips, "it is humanly impossible that this man could have followed you very closely. It will probably take him another day to arrive." But here his glance fell upon old Joe Cumberland, and found the cattleman smiling faintly to himself. Buck Daniels was considering the last remark seriously.
Then he lumbered off toward Lion Country. "And now," continued Ozma, "back to the job at hand." She put her fingertips to her temples and concentrated. The Forest Monster felt a slight tingling sensation in his heart, but nothing else happened. "Maybe you need to use your wand," suggested Lisa. "Or say an incantation?" "Or make some kind of magical motions?" put in Tweaty. "No," sighed Ozma.
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