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Updated: May 18, 2025
I wonder whether this myopia of my uncle is due to the fact that he is a confirmed old bachelor, and all women and children are to him pure ideals, as much sweeter than all other ideals as they are more substantial? He poses, to be sure, as a depreciator of woman. "Just like a woman," "women's frivolity," "useless little feminine trinkets," are phrases always on his lips.
The logs on which they stood whirled in the eddies, caromed against other timbers, slackened speed, shot away; never did the riders alter their poses of easy equilibrium. From time to time one propelled his craft ashore by hooking to and pushing against other logs.
Your father heard me say, in rather a flamboyant manner, perhaps, that in future I declared war against all crime and all criminals." She smiled very faintly, a smile which had in it no single element of joy or humour. "I can quite understand my father intervening," she said. "He poses as being rather a patron of artistically-perpetrated crime.
The story went that owing to an accidental likeness to Meiklejohn your husband was nearly killed. His assailant was a man named Voles. Voles was an associate of Rachel Craik, the woman who poses as Winifred's aunt. That is the line of inquiry. Do you know anything about it?" "Not a syllable." "Then I must appeal to Ronald." "Do so. He is as much in the dark as I am."
Immediately a fish is sighted, attitudes and poses become comparatively strained and awkward. Flight is checked by the enormous brake-power of outspread tail, and backward beating wing.
This poses Rosey: who prefers to have her opinions dealt out to her like her frocks, bonnets, handkerchiefs, her shoes and gloves, and the order thereof; the lumps of sugar for her tea, the proper quantity of raspberry jam for breakfast; who trusts for all supplies corporeal and spiritual to her mother. For her own part, Rosey is pleased with everything in nature. Does she love music? Oh, yes.
"Has she been brought here yet?" "Yes, she arrived three days ago. She is in the old city prison, where your father is also confined." "So far that is fortunate," Jean said. "Now, how about my father? I should have thought that Jacques' influence would have been sufficient to protect him." The young advocate smiled bitterly. "Monsieur Jacques Martin poses as a Brutus, Jean.
Draperies of "art" muslin; photographs in profusion of ladies in very low dresses and affected poses, with names and affectionate messages written across the corners; a multitude of dingy knick-knacks; above the mantelpiece a large colored photograph of Mrs.
She went along the hall towards her private sitting-room, and her stick as she went struck the stone floor with a vigour in harmony with her feelings. Sheer silliness, these poses. She had no patience with them.
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