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He was conscious of how much it was affected, this sense, by something subdued and discreet in the way she had arranged herself for her special object and her morning walk he believed her to have come on foot; the way her slightly thicker veil was drawn a mere touch, but everything; the composed gravity of her dress, in which, here and there, a dull wine-colour seemed to gleam faintly through black; the charming discretion of her small compact head; the quiet note, as she sat, of her folded, grey-gloved hands.
To the sight of Irene and that dead fellow sitting side by side in the stand at Lord's. To her and that boy at Robin Hill. To the sofa, where Fleur lay crushed up in the corner; to her lips pressed into his cheek, and her farewell "Daddy." And suddenly he saw again Irene's grey-gloved hand waving its last gesture of release.
She looked incredibly young to be the mother of the slim youth who followed her. The youth was Maurice Ilbert. His mother, Mrs. Ilbert, was well known as one of the most brilliant and exclusive hostesses in fine London circles. Now she was holding Mary's two hands in her own grey-gloved ones. "I insisted that my son should bring me to see you, Miss Gray," she was saying with empressement.
The great artist who had just taken Sir Allan Beaumerville's place by her side was not one of these. "I am so glad that you are here to-day, Miss Thurwell," he said, holding her grey-gloved hand in his for a moment. "I have been looking for you everywhere." "That is very nice of you," she answered, smiling up at him. "Ah! but I didn't mean only for my own sake.
She was seated on the sofa beside Eunice Rollo, slightly in advance of himself, so that only a crimson cheek was visible, and a neck reddened to the roots of the hair, but Arthur saw something else, which touched him even more than his old friend's distress a little grey-gloved hand which shot out from its owner's side and gripped the broad waist; a little hand that stroked, and patted, and pressed close in sympathetic embrace.
To the sofa, where Fleur lay crushed up in the corner; to her lips pressed into his cheek, and her farewell "Daddy." And suddenly he saw again Irene's grey-gloved hand waving its last gesture of release. He sat there a long time dreaming his career, faithful to the scut of his possessive instinct, warming himself even with its failures.
Steele's beautiful face, and I knew her fancy, like my own, had restored the ancient Jesuit mission to the far-off headland, and the legend of consecrated bells that still ring out from a tower long since crumbled is fresh and vivid in her memory. "I really believe I hear the bells, don't you, Mrs. Steele?" She puts the grey-gloved hand over her eyes as if she were tired.
The mud flew from the carriage- wheels, and she held up her skirts with a great display of grey-gloved hands, and backed up against the hedge, frowning and petulant my Lady Disdain in every gesture and expression.
To the sight of Irene and that dead fellow sitting side by side in the stand at Lord's. To her and that boy at Robin Hill. To the sofa, where Fleur lay crushed up in the corner; to her lips pressed into his cheek, and her farewell "Daddy." And suddenly he saw again Irene's grey-gloved hand waving its last gesture of release.
She held her umbrella, her bead chatelaine, and a little leather case in her grey-gloved hands, while Harry staggered out of the ugly little train with her bags. 'There's a trunk at the back, she said in her bright voice. But she was not feeling bright. The twin black cones of the iron foundry blasted their sky-high fires into the night. The whole scene was lurid. The train waited cheerfully.
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