"Why, father, God bless him!" said Jeff, moved at once, remembering what his father had to fight, "he's prisoner to his fear of death." "And Anne? and I?" Jeff sat looking at her in an abstracted thoughtfulness. "Anne?" he repeated. "You? I don't know. I shouldn't dare to say. I've no rights over Anne. She's so good I'm shy of her.

"Mother, mother, never speak of that again! If it had not been for you, I might never have come to know anything about myself, to say nothing of all the dreadful things which might have happened. Oh, God is good!" "He is indeed, dear! But you will be longing to go to your father." "Yes," said the girl, with a quiver of shy delight; "what does he say?" "My dear, he is thankful beyond measure."

She looked anxiously at him and at Count Nulin and said: "You must hold him all the time on the curb, Sergey Vassilitch. Don't let him shy. He's pretending." And either because her Giant was very friendly with Count Nulin, or perhaps by chance, she rode all the time beside Nikitin, as she had done the day before, and the day before that.

For common work newly imported slaves were actually preferred, and purchasers were shy of the veterator who had seen long service.

"June," she said, and a shy smile came through her tears. "June," he finished with a boyish laugh. "Good-by sir." "You haven't told me your name." "I suppose you know my brothers, sir, the Berkleys." "I should say so," and Hale held out his hand. "You're Bob?" "Yes, sir." "I knew you were coming, and I'm mighty glad to see you.

So, my son, be not shy of me, but frankly discover to me thy whole heart; and away with this gloom and melancholy whereof thy sickness is engendered, and be comforted, and assure thyself that there is nought that thou mayst require of me which I will not do to give thee ease, so far as my powers may reach, seeing that thou art dearer to me than my own life.

At the outset, the King fought shy of your raillery, but in a thousand discreditable ways you set your cap at him and forced him to pay you attention.

At the sound of his mother's shout Tom came hurrying out from the back door; but he was so dreadfully shy, when he saw Nealie and Sylvia standing by the horse, that he was just going to make a bolt for it, and pretend that he had business in another direction, only just then Nealie began to unharness the animal, setting about her task with such an air of being accustomed to it that he suddenly forgot to be awkward and nervous, walking up to the wagon and saying, in a matter-of-fact tone: "Here, Miss, I'll look to your animal, and give him his supper and a rub down, while you go in with Mother and get a feed for yourself."

"Well?" he said. "Continue!" She coloured vividly under his eyes. "I'm afraid I've lost my thread. It doesn't really matter. You know what I was going to say. The way to happiness does not lie in pleasing oneself. The self-seekers never get there." He made her a courteous bow. "Thank you, fairy god-mother! I believe you are right. That may be why happiness is so shy a bird.

The land which we had up to now skirted and touched at was not only barren and inhabited by savages, but also the sea in these parts seemed to yield nothing but sharks, swordfish, and the like unnatural monsters, while the birds also were as wild and shy as the men. What pleasure the wretched inhabitants of this country can find in their lives it is hard to understand.