Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 6, 2025
The first glimmer of dawn, striking on the misty surface of the pool outside, struggled up into the den. The youngsters turned to greet it, with the thought, perhaps, that it was time to go fishing. His slim black form was visible as it rose through the greying water.
The visitors were mostly young, rather noticeably young, I thought, in view of the greying hair over Mr. Rawlence's temples; and I felt less and less alarmed as I listened to their talk. In fact, shamelessly disrespectful though the idea was, I found myself, after a while, wondering whether Mr.
Next morning she awoke to find a soft, misty rain greying the world outside her window. Missy did not mind that; she loved rainy days they made you feel so pleasantly sad. For a time she lay quiet, watching the slant, silvery threads and feeling mysteriously, fascinatingly, at peace.
I adore hair that is slightly greying!" "Is it a V.C. he's got?" "When do you suppose they'll be married?" "Did you say he was an artist or an engineer?" "Won't she look lovely in a wedding gown?" "I wouldn't be married in anything but white." "Judith Benson thinks she's it. What is she doing in it anyhow?" Judith smiled happily in her bath. She had decided on her bridesmaid's frock.
Suddenly there were screams from the girls and cries of "Fight!" There was a rush. Men hurled themselves out of the kitchen. Two giants, flush-faced, with greying hair, were locked in each other's arms. One was Black Matt, who, everybody said, had killed two men in his time. The women screamed softly, crossed themselves, or prayed brokenly, hiding their eyes and peeping through their fingers.
There were certain ill-natured gossips who claimed to have recognized the fine, upright figure and the mobile face with hair greying at the temples as having occupied a seat in the third row of the balcony in the old Grand Opera House during the run of Erminie. The elders put it down as spite talk and declared that, personally, they didn't believe a word of it. The Rev.
Peridon's efforts to perfect himself in the French tongue touched her. A night of May leaning on June, is little more than a deliberate wink of the eye of light. Mr. Barmby, an exile from the ladies by reason of an addiction to tobacco, quitted the forepart of the vessel at the first greying.
Again with the eyes of her mind she beheld that grim, stalwart figure, saw his great nose, his greying hair, his fierce mustachios and his stern, quick eyes. Again she heard the rasp of his metallic voice with its brisk derision.
He requested that the man be shown into his study. In due course the visitor arrived. He was a man somewhere in the neighbourhood of sixty, but, save for a slight greying of the hair about his temples, he showed little outward signs of his age. His eyes, which were of a deep, unfathomable black, were very alert and followed Mr.
Leaning over the gunwale Mahony watched a boat come alongside, the man of oilskins climb down the rope-ladder and row away. Here, in the open, a heavy swell was running, but he kept his foot on the swaying boards long after the last of his fellow-passengers had vanished a tall, thin figure, with an eager, pointed face, and hair just greying at the temples.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking