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He said, "Yes; so long as you have guessed. Mary, I really must have a smoke." "Why am I so weak-minded as to give in to you!" she sighed; then handed him the cigar box, and scratched a match for him; he held her wrist the sputtering match in her fingers lighted the cigar, blew out the match, and kissed her hand.
'It wouldn't matter if they got too small for me soon, he added, 'for they'd do for Ger after me. 'I don't never want to thkate, said Gervais all five boys had breakfast downstairs on Sunday morning 'you have to go so fast. Ger was fat and round and slow in his movements. 'Oh you lazy boy, said his mother, laughing, as she kissed his firm, plump cheeks.
Some such query was running in their minds as they talked, while Jethro, having finished his milk and crackers, sat silent at the end of the table with his eyes upon her. He rose when Mr. Satterlee came in. Mr. Satterlee looked at her, and then he went quietly across the room and kissed her. But then Mr. Satterlee was the minister.
Her emotions were not starved, but they were kept down and only allowed to nibble. She thought often of the man who had been kind to her, and sometimes she wished that he had kissed her. It would have been something to remember.
A young girl of wonderful beauty lay asleep on an embroidered bed, and she looked as if she had only just closed her eyes. Trembling, the prince approached and knelt beside her. Some say he kissed her, but as nobody saw it, and she never told, we cannot be quite sure of the fact.
As for him, he As for him, he was sorry that he had lived to such times, and that he must seek in pleasures a refuge against griefs which, if not met, would soon kill him. When he had said this, he drew toward him a Syrian dancer, and kissed her neck and shoulders with his toothless mouth.
I will go, but I will come back." I put my arms round his neck. "My love," I said, "I trust you. Go. Always remember that I know you will succeed." I kissed him. "And when you have succeeded, come back." They say that everyone is capable of one novel. And, in my opinion, most people could write one play. Whether I wrote mine in an inspiration of despair, I cannot say. I wrote it.
And then his arm was about her and his face was close to hers, and Tessie did not like it. He kissed her after a little wordless struggle. And then she knew. She had been kissed before. But not like this. Not like this! She struck at him furiously. Across her mind flashed the memory of a girl who had worked in the finishing room. A nice girl, too. But that hadn't helped her.
"She is sick?" inquired the bishop, his voice full of sympathy, as he looked at the small, wan face. The woman's eyes filled with tears. "Yes," she answered, "I doubt I'm goin' to lose her, an' I feel I ought to be glad for her sake but I can't." She bent over the little form and kissed the heavy eyelids.
Simon had withheld the kiss with which a host usually welcomed his guests; the woman had passionately kissed his feet. Simon had not furnished the perfume with which it was usual to anoint an honored guest; the woman had come to the house with the special purpose of pouring fragrant oil upon the feet of her Lord.