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You will find no shelter here for one whose careless hand wounded our little friend Violet, and broke the truest heart that ever beat in a flower's breast. We are very angry with you, wicked Fairy; go away and hide yourself." "Ah," cried the shivering Elf, "where can I find shelter? I will go to the violets: they will forgive and take me in."
If Flower has got silly Australian notions in her head, she had better get rid of them as fast as possible. She is living with English people now, and English people all the world over won't put up with nonsense." "It isn't Flower's ways I mean," said David. "Her ways and her thoughts aren't much, but it's it's when she gets into a passion.
There's no use talking about it you have done it now, Polly! but Flower's passions are awful." David's eyes filled slowly with tears. "Oh, you are a cry-baby," said Polly. She knew she was making herself disagreeable all round. In her heart she admired and even loved David; but nothing would induce her to say she was sorry for any part she had taken in Flower's disappearance.
This means that not only my stable but my safe has been robbed, and there is a traitor within my gates." Dr. Tracy, absorbed in contemplation of Miss Flower's radiant face, and in the effort to make his own words eloquent, had no ears for those of others. He never heeded the trader's excited outburst. He only saw her suddenly flinch, suddenly pale, then sway.
James desired an uninterrupted expression of its beauty: to first sketch it with a pencil would be to lose something of his first vividness of impression. It must flow straight out of the brush. But to attain such fluency it was necessary to paint that orchid a hundred times before its form and colour were learnt sufficiently to admit of the expression of all the flower's beauty in one painting.
Flower were to her the same thing; and there can be little doubt that a god who had no socks to darn, or linen to keep spotless, was a god whom Mrs. Flower would have found it impossible to conceive. A more complete and delighted absorption in the physical comforts and nourishments of the human creature than Mrs. Flower's, it would be impossible for dreamer to imagine.
At the same time a pony dashed up beside me, and Little Blue Flower's voice rang in my ears. "The rocks! Climb up and hide in the rocks!" She dropped back on one side of Beverly, with Sister Anita on the other, guarding our rear.
She is sitting with him now, and the door is locked, and the key is in Polly's pocket, and she has promised me not to open that door to any one no, Fly, not to a hundred of your Aunt Marias until I bring David home." Fly's face underwent a transformation. Her big eyes looked full up into Flower's. A smile flitted across her quivering lips.
Set down, Miss, do now, and I'll light up the fire in a twinkling." "No, you needn't," said Flower. "I'm hot; I'm burning. Feel me; a fire would drive me wild." "To be sure, so you are, all in a fever like," said Mrs. Ricketts, laying her rough hand for a moment on Flower's dainty arm.
Every wavelet of scent, every toss of a flower's head in the breeze, came with a sting in its pleasure for there was no woman to whom they belonged. Yet he could not shut them out, for God and not woman is the heart of the universe. Would the day ever come when the loveliness of Mary St. John, felt and acknowledged as never before, would be even to him a joy and a thanksgiving?
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