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Updated: May 8, 2025
Sensual visions of a greater luxury than this around him came to console him as the picture of the attic life slipped from him. He stepped beyond the boundaries of regret into the radiant portals of the salon. A woman stood before him. Unconsciously his fingers itched for the abandoned brush while his thumb crooked longingly for the discarded palette.
Pity we have no cards with us; it would be amusing to be the first man introducing that game into the western prairies. Well, I looked on, and by-and-bye, I got tired of being merely a spectator. My nose itched, my fingers too. I twisted my five-dollar bill in all senses, till a sharp took me for a flat, and he proposed kindly to pluck me out-and-out.
For the rest, Lockhard had his master's orders to bring some venison from the inn, and Caleb was to trust to his wits for the honour of his family. The Master, indeed, a second time held out his purse; but, as it was in sight of the strange servant, the butler thought himself obliged to decline what his fingers itched to clutch.
Jack's fingers itched to get hold of his derisive questioner, but he had a duty to perform, and contented himself with saying, "Just wait a few minutes, and I'll let you know." "I dare say," was the reply. "I rather think I shall have to wait till both of us are gray before that time." "You won't have to wait long before you are black and blue," retorted Jack.
"You will end by making her wish to do it by talking to her about it so much." Ah! yes, indeed, she did wish to do it. She itched all over, longing to break loose and gad all the time, as father Coupeau said. He insisted so much on the subject that even an honest girl would have fired up.
Lucy, for her part, hovered quick-footed in his neighbourhood. This was her hour of triumph, and she played with it. She peeped at the paper over his shoulder till he said, "Please," and moved it. Her fingers itched to touch his hair, but very prudently refrained. She was too restless to settle to anything, and too happy to wish it.
There I sat on some steps and offered them for sale to the passers-by; but nobody wanted them. Hours passed, and it was very cold; the open wound in my knee, which no one saw, pained me so, and the frost in my fingers and toes burned and itched dreadfully.
Jordan was looking at Herr Carovius in great suspense. “Well, what do you think of it?” he asked. “Be quite frank; I can stand any amount of criticism.” Herr Carovius had great difficulty to keep from bursting out laughing. His mouth and chin itched.
There was a play of the fingers of his right hand, when the arm fell from its position across his bosom to his thigh, as if they itched to grasp the knife whose buck-horn handle lay within a few inches of their reach. Yet his air to the white man was composed and dignified. The latter was again about to speak, when the arches of the forest suddenly rung with the report of a musket.
Back home he went, and added to his literary effort a few more paragraphs wherein the editorial "we" more profoundly cringed, cowered, and crawled in penitential abasement. Despite the relish of the words, Hal rather hoped that the editor would refuse to publish his masterpiece. He itched to use that whip.
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