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Updated: May 2, 2025
Next morning the air was cooler, the skies lower and grayer the big city was close at hand.
It was certainly very much lighter than her brows and lashes. To-day she was wearing a corduroy dress of a gold some shades grayer than the gold of her hair. Sable trimmed it, and violet silk lined the loose sleeves and the coat, now unfastened and thrown back. There were, as Vernon had known there would be, violets under the brim of the hat that matched her hair.
It was just what Melbury had begun to suspect: Fitzpiers had mounted the mare which did not belong to him in mistake for his own an oversight easily explicable, in a man ever unwitting in horse-flesh, by the darkness of the spot and the near similarity of the animals in appearance, though Melbury's was readily enough seen to be the grayer horse by day.
But Mother Corey cut in, his voice older and hoarser, and the skin on his jowls even grayer than usual. "Don't sell them short, cobber. I did once.... You forget them, here, after a while. But they're around...." Bruce Gordon felt something run down his armpit, and a chill creep up his back.... Out on the street, a sudden whooping began, and he glanced down.
She met Linda at the door, a weary Linda, ghastly as to face, grayer as to straggling hair, but with such radiance in her eyes that Harriet, clasped in her arms, began to cry again. "What YOU need is coffee!" she faltered, trying to laugh, as Linda sat down and rested her head in her hands. "Oh, Harriet if I can ever thank God enough!"
The mist again drifted its skeins around leaf and branch, gray things became grayer, drops formed in mid-air and slipped slowly through other slower forming drops, and a moment later rain was falling gently.
His face seemed whiter, his hair grayer, his form more bent; his footsteps were feeble and uncertain; he leaned heavily upon his walking-stick; and in the glance that he turned toward her there was untold sympathy and compassion, together with a timid supplication that was unlike any thing which she had seen in him before. Edith neither said any thing nor did any thing.
The conversation passed from Confederate revolvers to the arms of the Civil War in general, and they were discussing the changes in tactics occasioned by the introduction of the revolver and the repeating carbine when the door from the house opened and Arnold Rivers appeared on the landing. He looked older than when Rand had last seen him. His hair was thinner on top and grayer at the temples.
Sewell held the broth to his lips. He drank a little, yet his face became grayer and grayer; a bluish tinge spread about his mouth. "Have you nothing else, sir?" asked Sewell, in despair.
We looked at each other and laughed. "The three!" Our patron of art came in, with a warm, gentle smile, his tall, thin figure a little bent with the fatigue of the journey, his beard a little grayer and dustier than usual, and his hands all a-tremble with nervous impatience and excitement. He had never been as tremulous before an opinion from the Supreme Court.
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