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Updated: June 14, 2025
Greatly impressed by this daring, she gurgled in her throat, and took the great thumb delicately between her mandibles with a daintiness that would not have marred a rose-petal. Yes, she concluded at once, this was a man after her own heart, with a smell to his hands like that of MacPhairrson himself.
"He is coming now," said Becky, who sat by the window. "Look, Aunt Claudia." Tramping up the hail towards the second gate was a tall figure in khaki. Resting like a rose-petal on one shoulder was a mite of a child in pink rompers. "He is bringing Fiddle with him," Becky gasped. "Oh, Aunt Claudia, he is bringing Fiddle." Aunt Claudia rose and looked out "Well," she said, "let her come.
"He is coming now," said Becky, who sat by the window. "Look, Aunt Claudia." Tramping up the hill towards the second gate was a tall figure in khaki. Resting like a rose-petal on one shoulder was a mite of a child in pink rompers. "He is bringing Fiddle with him," Becky gasped. "Oh, Aunt Claudia, he is bringing Fiddle." Aunt Claudia rose and looked out "Well," she said, "let her come.
So many other things are pleasant, too; but, dear, dear, it is very unfortunate about that one thing!" Still Miss Salome hummed, and after tea she got Anne to help her move out the empty packing-boxes. The next day the Little Blue Overalls came again. This time he was a peddler, with horse-chestnut "apples" to sell, and rose-petal pies. He said they were bargains.
She wore her pink rompers, and as she bobbed along she was like a mammoth rose-petal blown by the wind. At the foot of the hill she came upon a little brown stream. It was just a thread of a stream, very shallow with a lot of big flat stones. Fiddle walked straight into it, and the clear water swept over her toes. She put in her little fish, and quite unexpectedly, they swam away.
If with the tip of his rose-petal tongue he laid the lick of fondness and approval on the end of your nose, you felt two things: that the salute had come directed by the purest heart-guidance, and that the nose had something about it subtly right. You were flattered. When Gerald encouraged Mrs.
Then suddenly again she struggled for balance, fell headlong. "Keep on walking, mother's heart's treasure," Peachy commanded. She dropped to her knees and held out her arms; her face worked uncontrollably. Angela pulled herself up with a determined settling of her little rose-petal mouth. Swaying, stumbling, staggering, she ran on in one final spurt until she collapsed in her mother's arms.
Her lower lip was full and red, the upper one firm and repressed with the dull crimson of a fading rose-petal. Her shapely arms and legs were restless, seemingly impatient to break into some quickly moving dance. She was extraordinarily alive. Vitality flashed from her with every gesture, and her mind, a thing of caprice and whim, knew no boundaries but those of imagination itself.
But to-night she was rather pale and listless, her rose-petal loveliness emphasised thereby perhaps. An unusual air of indifference hung about her as she stood there amid this throng of martial jostlers who craved the honour of a dance and at whom she smiled a thought mechanically over the top of her slowly moving fan.
She knew it instinctively and instantly. But the rose-petal face and the big eyes were overwhelmingly present to her consciousness. She saw them reflected in the look on his face as he bent over her. "I hope you're not hurt." "Not in the least. Only humiliated." Lena smiled, because people are always attracted by cheerfulness. "You are sure you have not twisted your ankle?" he insisted.
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