Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 22, 2025
Nevill Tyson was smiling softly to herself as she played with the water in her finger-glass. Presently she rose and shook the drops from her fingertips, like one washing her hands of a light matter. Stanistreet got up and opened the door for her, standing very straight and militant and grim; and as she passed through she looked back at him and laughed again.
The ugly black letters stood up before me, and my heart gave a great contraction. I felt my fingertips turn cold. The letters seemed to stand up before me as large as a Malted Milk signboard. With a shuddering apprehension I read the details.
But the glance backward and the incredibly quick withdrawal of the man's hand combined to form the infinitesimal space which separated Gavin from agonizing death. The snake's striking head missed the fast-retreating fingers by less than a hair's breadth. The fangs met on the wards of the rusty key Brice had caught up in his fingertips.
Then Robin Hood and Gilbert of the White Hand tossed a farthing aloft to see who should lead in the shooting, and the lot fell to Gilbert's side; thereupon he called upon Hubert of Suffolk to lead. Hubert took his place, planted his foot firmly, and fitted a fair, smooth arrow; then, breathing upon his fingertips, he drew the string slowly and carefully.
She will miss me a little when we leave here, maybe," Eloise said, looking at me with a grateful smile that sent a tingle to my fingertips. "Won't you stay, too?" I asked, suddenly realizing that this beautiful girl might slip away as easily as she had come into my life here. Eloise laughed at my earnestness. "I couldn't stay long," she said, lightly. "And why not?" I burst in, eagerly.
She deigned to kiss her fingertips from the window, where she stood laughing with the other ladies, and chanced to see him as he made his way to the "Toy." The Dowager at Chelsey was not sorry to part with him this time.
Fletcher said that he did not fully join her in blaming the angry youth. Mr. Fletcher touched her fingertips in bidding her good-night, and nothing was said of a meeting in the future. Clarice was forgotten, and Cordelia was not only herself again, but quite a miserable self, for her sobs awoke the little brother and sister who shared her bed. The Prize-Fund Beneficiary
"'Weep not, said I, 'but spread to me thy fingers, so I may read what fate thou holdest in thy palm. And like a child she smiled between her tears. "'Look only on luck, quoth she, 'oh, ancient one, lest my heart break even now. I spread her pink fingertips out as one would unruffle a rose, and read therein her fate." "And what read you there?" said the Black Earl, impatient with her delay.
He jerked his head away, not wanting to look at the things on the table. The walls, at least, looked familiar. They seemed to be paneled in some fine wood. He walked over and touched it. And knew immediately that, no matter what it looked like, it wasn't wood. The illusion was there to the eye, but no wood ever had such a hard, smooth, glasslike surface as this. He jerked his fingertips away.
I have heard that you are a very clever young man and devoted to your work, that you have all the knowledge of the schools at your fingertips, but very little experience, and no practice to speak of." "Excuse me, Lady Anne. I was three years house surgeon at the Good Samaritan; and I have done a great deal of work since I have been here. I will confess that my patients have been of a poor class."
Word Of The Day
Others Looking