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To have longed and waited these weary hours for him, rehearsing her endearments to have seen him at last come to have been ready there, breathless, wholly passive, his to do what he would with and suddenly to have found herself confronted with a grey-faced, harsh schoolmaster it was too rude a shock. She could have wept, but pride withheld her.
What rebels do you harbour?" The yeoman took alarm at that ferocious truculence. It expressed itself in his trembling voice. "I... I am no harbourer of rebels, sir. This wounded gentleman...." "I can see for myself." The Captain stamped forward to the day-bed, and scowled down upon the grey-faced sufferer. "No need to ask how he came in this state and by his wounds.
"That's all right," he said, forgetting a very obvious consideration. He approached the door, and as he did so a compactly built, grey-faced man in shirt sleeves appeared in it and scrutinised him and his cudgel. "Mornin'," said Bert. "Can I get anything to eat 'r drink in this shop?" The man in the door replied, thank Heaven, in clear, good American. "This, sir, is not A shop, it is A store."
René de Montigny spoke first the thing that filled his mind. "It must be a devil of a business," he reflected, "to be bullied like that by a beauty. Blood, but she is beautiful, and blood, but she can bellow." Guy Tabarie chuckled fatly. "I have been bullied so many times by grey-faced drabs that I would take my trouncing patiently from such a pair of lips.
It was soon done, soon over, and she and the grey-faced piper danced a minuet in the moonbeams; afterwards he piped a farewell dirge, a wild, weird, funereal dirge, and, marching slowly backwards, his dark, gleaming eyes fixed gloatingly on hers, disappeared through the window. Then the reaction set in, and Martha raved and shrieked till every one in the house flew to the rescue.
Then he flung himself face downwards upon the sodden earth, and his fingers dug into the carpet of dead matter, clawing aimlessly. The afternoon was well advanced when he moved again. He rose to his feet without any warning, and the change in him was staggering. Now a gaunt, grey-faced man looked out upon the world through eyes which burned with the light of fever.
The source of his colossal wealth was a mystery, but was no doubt connected with his curious and constant communications with Paris. At rare intervals a grey-faced, grey-bearded, and rather stout Frenchman a certain Monsieur Goslin called, and on such occasions was closeted for a long time alone with Sir Henry, evidently discussing some important affair in secret.
It was Caesar the great Dalmatian who greeted him thus effusively, and Piers realized in an instant that the dog had some news to impart. He pushed him aside with a brief word of welcome and entered the ivy-grown place. "Hullo!" gasped a voice with painful utterance. "Hullo!" And in a moment he discerned Sir Beverley crouched in a corner, grey-faced, his riding-whip still clutched in his hand.
Both men turned and before them they saw the plainly dressed figure of a beautiful woman, and behind her an elderly, grey-faced man. For a few seconds the woman stared at The Sparrow blankly. Then she turned her gaze upon Hugh. Her lips parted. Suddenly she gave vent to a loud cry, almost of pain, and placing both hands to her head, gasped: "Dieu!" It was Yvonne Ferad.
Roper looked in grey-faced and trembling, and they knew that all was over. She went with them to the burial in St.
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