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"But if the father of this beautiful Romola makes collections, why should he not like to buy some of my gems himself?" Nello shrugged his shoulders. "For two good reasons want of sight to look at the gems and want of money to pay for them." II. "More than a Man's Ransom"
"I want these vases, at any rate," I answered, holding up the articles I had mentioned. "Worth four, five dollar!" ejaculated the dealer, in well feigned surprise. I shook my head. He shrugged his shoulders, and commenced searching his basket, from which, after a while, he took a china cup and saucer, on which I read, in gilt letters, "For my Husband." "Give you this," said he.
A maid of honor to have such company fie! fie!" and their voices were lost in the depths of the narrow staircase. Montalais had not missed a word of this conversation, which echo conveyed to her as if through a tunnel. She shrugged her shoulders on seeing Raoul, who had listened likewise, issue from the closet. "Poor Montalais!" said she, "the victim of friendship!
So much do we agree, and men like you and me are often lonely." He shrugged his shoulders and put his head on one side, quizzing at me with his eyes. Then he shook his head decidedly, and said: "No, no it is certain that we shall never meet again."
With me it is the soul that is lost. No exact sum was named; thousands were hinted. 'You are hardly practical on points of business. 'I was insane. 'I think you said you slept well after it, Dacier remarked. 'I had so little the idea of having done evilly, that I slept without a dream. He shrugged: the consciences of women are such smooth deeps, or running shallows.
To-day you are well, thanks to your remarkable constitution and a Frenchman's art. Next month, perhaps" and he shrugged his shoulders. "If you have any business matters to settle, monsieur, any affair of the heart, any will to make, you had better attend to such things while the good Lord gives you strength."
Jacques Collin shrugged his shoulders with an indifference that was in perfect harmony with the cool curiosity he gave throughout to the judge's words, while Camusot studied him with cunning attention. "Take care," said Camusot; "listen to me." "I am listening, sir."
"You love your son?" Garcia asked, still very gently. "This Drennen is your son and you love him much?" "Yes." "Then I, Ramon Garcia, who have never done a good thing in my life, I do a good thing now! I give you something filled with sweetness to carry in your heart? For why?" He shrugged gracefully. "It is so short to tell, and maybe the telling make others happy, too. See.
Invariably these houses are of a whitish gray color; almost invariably they are narrow and cramped- looking, with very peaky gables, somehow suggesting flat-chested old men standing in close rows, with their hands in their pockets and their shoulders shrugged up.
"Nor I." And his tone implied that the two facts conjoined proved much. "Miss Willoughby ?" she inquired. Now, how in heaven's name, could a cloistered Fairhaven have surmised his intention of proposing on the first convenient opportunity to handsome, well-to-do Anne Willoughby? He shrugged his wonder off. "Oh, people will talk, you know.
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