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Updated: June 12, 2025
Ralston," says Claire, after a long pause in their converse. "She is thoroughly worn out, and yet, weary as she was, she must have talked with you for hours, Madeline, after we came back from the grave." Over Madeline's face flits an odd, half-sad smile, as she replies, dreamily: "Yes, we talked a long time, dear; Mrs. Ralston was then in the mood for talking.
"No! no! only forgive him, and let me go. Only forgive him, and let him begin again. He must love you he does love you. It was my fault not his. Oh " Priscilla stopped her, smiling, in a half-sad way. "Hush!" she said, quietly. "You don't understand me. The fault was only the fault of the old blunder. Don't try to throw your happiness away, Theodora. You were not made to miss it.
I'd better have kept you on the rein after all." "I should have run away if you had," said Piers. He poured himself out a glass of wine and raised it to his lips. He looked at Sir Beverley above it with a smile half-sad, half-mocking, and eyes that veiled his soul. "I should have gone to the devil if you had, sir," he said, "and probably I shouldn't have come back."
You imagine that only those who adore you really know you? Indeed, this belief that everybody adores you is a craze of yours." Jeanne made the little pouting grimace with which all her friends were familiar. "What a foolish girl," she said; but at once softened the expression with a kiss and a half-sad, half-quizzical smile. "Women, as I have always told you, do adore me.
There he was, the Old Cattleman, under a favorite tree, the better to avoid the heavy dew. He sat motionless and seemed to be soaking himself, as one might say, in the balmy weather of that hour. My wisdom had ordered Jim, my black man, to attend my steps. The laconic, half-sad salutation of my old friend at once gave Black Jim a mission. He was dispatched in quest of stimulants.
The half-sad, half-bitter mouth smiled faintly, the smile accentuating that upward curve at the corners of the lips which lent such an unexpected sweetness to its stern lines. Diana looked away quickly, refusing to endorse the Rector's invitation, and, escaping to her own room, she made a hasty toilet, slipping into a simple little black gown open at the throat.
He had met the cure, first accidentally on the shore, and afterwards in the cure's house, finding much in common he had known many priests in the North, known much good of them. The cure glanced up at him now as they passed, and a half-sad smile crossed his face. Gaston caught it as it passed. The cure read his case truly enough and gently enough too.
The quills slanted back from all around his diminutive face, and even from between his eyes short at first, but growing longer toward his shoulders and back. Long whitish bristles were mingled with them, and the mossback could not help thinking of a little old, old man, with hair that was grizzly-gray, and a face that was half-stupid and half-sad and wistful.
"Not yet," I answered, "but something drew me back to you. I would know how it fares with you, and I would go again with you to visit the Source." At this her face grew bright, but with a tender, half-sad brightness. "The Source!" she said. "Ah, yes, I was sure that you would remember it. And this is the hour of the visitation. Come, let us go up together."
My home is a sad, lonely place how lonely even you, who have guessed so shrewdly and who speak so eloquently, cannot know. You should thank God for your lowly birth and your lowly friends." "I do," the girl answered, with a queer, half-sad, half-amused expression upon her face which Max could not interpret.
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