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Updated: June 8, 2025
There were at least a score of things she could have said about her adversary's cap alone: plain, straightforward remarks which would have torn it to shreds. The cap fascinated her, and her fingers itched as she gazed at it.
Their legs, to be sure, stuck out beyond the screen of the poplar sapling, in plain sight of every forest wayfarer. But legs were of little consequence so long as they were not allowed to kick. For just about a minute the Child found it easy to keep still. In the second minute his nose itched, and he began to wonder how long they had been there.
A young man came to me today came into my room all cock-a-whoop, smiling to himself with the notion that he had only to name what he wanted, and I would give it to him and " He stopped abruptly, with a confused little laugh. He had been upon the brink of telling about Lord Plowden's discomfiture, and even now the story itched upon his tongue.
Where will we go?" "Over to the gambling house a friend of mine runs, just around the corner. There we can talk in quiet." Shirley led the way, restraining the smile which itched to betray his enjoyment of the situation. The other studied him with sidelong glances of unabated astonishment.
Bartley became interested. His fingers itched to grasp the dice and try his luck. But he realized that his amateurish knowledge of the game would be an affront to those free-moving sons of the mesa. So he contented himself with watching the game and the faces of the men as they won or lost. Bartley felt that some one was close behind him looking over his shoulder.
I trimmed off the ragged edges as well as I could, and what didn't get in my eyes got down my neck and itched so terribly that I had to change my clothes. Then I got a nail-punch out of Dinky-Dunk's tool-kit, and heated it over the lamp and gave a little more wave to that two-inch shock of stubble.
"Come, come, cousin mine," he said; "don't be selfish with the lady." I smiled blandly back at him, though my hand itched to strike him in the face. "My dear Duke," I said, "you forget I may not yet have had time to acquire certain of the dilettante accomplishments of Royalty." His expression changed instantly. "I beg your pardon, Armand," he said, "I was only joking."
And this Alfieri had constantly to bear. Perhaps the very knowledge of the actual suffering, of the unjust recriminations, the cruel violence, the absolute fear of death, among which Louise d'Albany spent her life, was not so difficult for her lover to bear as to see her, the beautiful and high-minded lady of his heart, seated in her opera box near the sofa where the red and tumid-faced Pretender lay snoring, waking up, as Mann describes him, only to summon his lacqueys to assist him in a fit of drunken sickness, or to be carried, like a dead swine, with hanging bloated head and powerless arms, down-stairs to his carriage; not so difficult to bear as to hear her, his Beatrice, his Laura, made the continual victim of her bullying husband's childish bad-temper, of his foul-mouthed abuse, to hear it and have to sit by in silence, dependent upon the good graces of a besotted ruffian against whom Alfieri's hands must have continually itched.
Secretly, through his hostile study of the game, he had convinced himself that he by divine right could do perfectly what these people did so clumsily. Again and again his hands had itched for the club as he watched futile drives. He knew he could hit the ball. He couldn't help hitting it, stuck up the way it was on a pinch of sand stuck up like a sore thumb. How did they miss it time after time?
The next time Fabens saw Troffater, he inquired if Tilly knew any evil of George Ludlow, or if he ever warned Fairbanks and Frisbie against him. "They never said so much as boo, about 'im to me, nor I to them; that's honest," said Troffater. "But I tell you, Fabens, I never thought a great 'eal o' them scamps. I itched to give you a jog, when they come so thick around you.
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