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In a wicker chaise-longue John Parker lounged on the porch outside his room; Farrel caught the scent of his cigar on the warm, semi-tropical night, saw the red end of it gleaming like a demon's eye. "Hello, Mr. Farrel," Parker greeted him. "Won't you sit down and smoke a cigar with me before turning in?" "Thank you. I shall be happy to."
The broad, heavy-laden pine-boughs drooped wearily by the roadside, the gleaming surface of the snow stretched in a monotonous sheet of white between the trunks of the trees, the tops of the dark rocks beside the way bore smooth white caps of loose snow, the forest stream was frozen along the edges, only in the centre did the water trickle through snow-crystals and sharp icicles to the valley.
He bore aloft a drawn dagger, and had approached, in rapid impetuosity, to within three or four feet of the retreating figure, when the latter, having attained the extremity of the velvet apartment, turned suddenly and confronted his pursuer. There was a sharp cry and the dagger dropped gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which, instantly afterwards, fell prostrate in death the Prince Prospero.
Every night before I go to bed I tuck away my two old folks, and then hear little Joe say his lessons and his prayers, and then I go out in the yard and look at your light gleaming and twinkling through the vines about your window. Then my heart gets full of a feeling so sweet and soothing that when I look above the whole starry sky seems to shower down comfort and blessings.
Answering, the Preston High School boys paddled as though fury now possessed them. They held the pace, too. "Hit it up hard, now," Dick commanded. "One, two, three, four!" Never had Gridley responded more nobly on any field of sport or other contest than now. The paddles flew, their wet blades gleaming in the air, only to disappear under the water again. Each recovery was swift, prompt rhythmic!
The lighthouse rose red and gleaming from Cap'n David's garden spot; the bay, blue and rippling, spread in and out of its tiny sub-bays where the land stretched like five fingers of a hand, with the blue water in between. To the west lay the Hills in their "artistic desolation," and to the north of them The Bluff, with Mr. Devant's long-closed house gracing the summit.
There, sitting on the bench, in his favorite place, was the late Robert J. Dinkle, gleaming in the moonlight, the front door showing right through him. "I must appear pretty distinct," he says in a proud-like way. "Can't you see me very plain?" See him plain! I should think so.
Perhaps the night is pitchy dark, with a gale blowing and a heavy sea on: but the pilot slips on his shore clothes and his derby hat it is considered unprofessional to wear anything more nautical and makes ready to board. The little schooner runs up to leeward of where the great liner, with her long rows of gleaming portholes, lies rolling heavily in the sea.
I stood erect in my tree, and for the first time for a long while looked far abroad over the country, to where the ships glided down the Danube among the vineyards, and the high-roads, still deserted, stretched like bridges across the gleaming landscape and far over the distant hills and valleys.
Olga looked up at him with gleaming eyes. "Nick! How how dare he!" "It is pretty daring certainly," agreed Nick. "It's a valuable trifle that." Olga closed the case with a resolute snap. "I shall send it back at once." "Hadn't you better read the dedication?" suggested Nick. She took up the strip of paper, stretched it out, frowned at it. The writing on this also was minute.
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