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Updated: May 14, 2025
His white hair, still fairly thick, glistened in the lamplight; a little moisture from his fixed, light-grey eyes stained the cheeks, still quite well coloured, and the long deep furrows running to the corners of the clean-shaven lips, which moved as if mumbling thoughts.
The cabalistic paraphernalia was limited, there being nothing but a dirty pack of double-headed cards, a small pasteboard box with some scraps of paper in it, and two kinds of powder in little bottles, like hair-oil pots. Madame Lent is a woman of medium height, about thirty-five years of age, with light-grey eyes, false teeth, a head nearly bald, and hair, what there is of it, of a bright red.
"No woman is ever in such health that you can break her heart with impunity." Hugh's light-grey eyes gleamed like steel. "Will you answer my question?" he said curtly. Lancaster sprang up. "Diane is in as good health now as ever she was," he said violently. And strode out of the room.
"Baroni's forbidden me to smoke," she said, hesitating a little. "Do you think just one would hurt my voice?" The short black lashes flew up, and the light-grey eyes, like a couple of stars between black clouds, met his in irresistible appeal. "I'm sure it wouldn't," he replied promptly. "After all, this is just an hour's playtime that we have snatched out of life.
From the midst rose a high black mountain, contrasting beautifully with the surrounding masses of light-grey lava. At first I supposed the lava must have streamed forth from this mountain, but soon found that the latter was perfectly smooth on all sides, and terminated in a sharp peak.
"Helen Rathbone," said Uncle James one Tuesday afternoon, "have ye been meddling in my cashbox?" They were sitting in the front room, Helen in a light-grey costume that cascaded over her chair and half the next chair, and James Ollerenshaw in the deshabille of his Turkish cap. James was at his desk.
We encamped under a banian tree; our surroundings were the now light-grey waters of the Tanganika, an amphitheatral range of hills, and the village of Niasanga, situated at the mouth of the rivulet Niasanga, with its grove of palms, thicket of plantains, and plots of grain and cassava fields. Near our tent were about half-a-dozen canoes, large and small, belonging to the villagers.
"You need not wait," Lord Blandamer said to the man; "we can unpack it ourselves." When the wrappings were taken off, they stood the painting on the narrow shelf formed by the top of the wainscot which lined the gallery, and from the canvas the old lord surveyed them with penetrating light-grey eyes, exactly like the eyes of the grandson who stood before him.
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