United States or Bosnia and Herzegovina ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Dona Felipa took her fan in both hands, spanning her knees, leaned forward, and after a preliminary compressing of her lips and knitting of her brows, said: "It was a long time ago. Don Gregorio he have his daughter Rosita here, and for her he will fill all thees rose garden and gif to her; for she like mooch to lif with the rose. She ees very pret-ty.
Now we are a-cross the riv-er, and now we must get on the car, musn’t we? What car must we get on? O I see it now, the yellow car. Now we are going a-long and I can see—O what a pret-ty dress in that store. O what real nice can-dy that is. I wish I had some don’t you? Now we’re at the house. Is it the one on the cor-ner, or the next one to it, or is it the brick house with the green blinds?
Now we go along, along, along, along, and now we are at the de-pot. I didn’t ev-er be here ei-ther—there is a riv-er here, and a mill and a—O what a pret-ty cow—somebody is go-ing to milk the cow. There is a town here—it seems as if I did be here before—yes I am sure—O what a pret-ty lit-tle car-riage, and what a pret-ty dog.
"It ees very pret-ty, but all the same I am not a rose: I am what you call a big goose-berry! Eh is it not?" The cousins laughed, but without any embarrassed consciousness. "Dona Felipa knows a sad story of this house," said Cecily; "but she will not tell it before you, Dick."
Moodie, I guess. You don't quite understand our language yet." "O! now I understand you; she's quite well, I thank you; and how is our friend Mrs. S ?" I replied, laying a slight emphasis on the MRS., by way of a gentle hint for his future guidance. "Mrs. S , I guess she's smart, pret-ty CON-siderable.
And one day, behold! he walk into the casa, very white and angry, and he swear mooch to himself; and he orders his horse, and he ride away, and never come back no more, never-r-r! And one day another caballero, Don Esteban Briones, he came in, and say, 'Hola! Don Jorge has forgotten his pret-ty girl: he have left her over on the garden bench.
"I don't know what your ideas of honor may be in regard to the young ladies of your acquaintance," she said, with an additional dash of ice in her voice, "but it seems to me a peculiar kind of honor which allows a man to insult his hostess by making love to a married woman in her house." "Pret-ty good for a baby!" thought Dartmouth.
With the aid of Bell's guitar and Jack's banjo the girls and boys soon caught the pretty air, and sung it in chorus. Pretty Pol-ly Ol-i-ver, will you be my own? Pret-ty Pol-ly Ol-i-ver, as cold as a stone; But my love has grown warm-er as cold-er you've grown, O Pret-ty Pol-ly Ol-i-ver, will you be my own? Pret-ty Pol-ly Ol-i-ver, I love you so dear!
That's all right; I understand perfectly. But I'm Lorrigan, too. You'll go, or I'll kill you. Tom Lorrigan, your hand is pret-ty close to your gun! But so is mine. You'd kill me, because I stand in the trail you've been traveling. But you wouldn't kill me a damn bit quicker than I'd kill you! I do stand in the trail and you're going to take another, both you Lorrigans.
"I'm a buyer," he said, rather pathetically, "and a pret-ty good one, too. But I'm not a genius, and I never will be. And I guess you've got to be a genius, these days, to keep up. It used to be enough for an infants' wear buyer to know muslins, cottons, woolens, silks, and embroideries. But that's old-fashioned now.
Word Of The Day