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She and Norman stood in silence until the footsteps died away. Then she said crossly to Norman: "You ought to have gone before. I don't like to do these things." "You do them well," said he, with a savage gleam. She was prompt and sure with his punishment. She said, simply and sweetly: "I'd do anything to keep his good opinion of me." Norman felt and looked cowed.
Of all the old school-girls from Miss Howard's, Kittie and Kat were the only two who did not make pretensions towards young ladyhood; and just now, there was something so girlish and sweet about them, in their fresh calico suits, and bright young faces under the big hats, that one or two strangers asked who they were, all the elder people smiled approval, while the young ones, with an eye on the handsome cousin, nodded sweetly, and were quite attentive.
And he smiled again, more sweetly than before, as though the idea of hopeless damnation suggested some peculiarly agreeable reflections. Unfolding his fine cologne-scented cambric handkerchief, he carefully wiped his fat white fingers free from the greasy marks of the toast, and, taking up the objectionable cross gingerly, as though it were red-hot, he examined it closely on all sides.
Milly smiled at her sweetly, but rather as though she were talking nonsense. "It's very kind of you, Aunt Beatrice, but Ian and I have never been parted for a day since we were married; I mean not when and I don't feel as though I could spare a minute of his company. And poor Baby, too! Oh no! But of course it's very good of you to think of it."
Her covetous eyes would wander to that other face, with its singular loveliness and its sweetly earnest eyes, sheltered under the protection of him for whose sheltering protection she had so long yearned. Poor Barbara did not benefit much by the services that day. Afterward they went across the churchyard to the west corner, where stood the tomb of Lord Mount Severn.
"Haven't the least idea," replied Perkins equably. "You were on the tram this morning when Miss Brewster was insulted, weren't you?" "Yes." "And ran away?" "I did." "What did you run away for?" "I ran away," the other sweetly informed him, "on important business of my own." Cluff snickered. The suspicion impinged upon Carroll's mind that this wasn't going to be as simple as he had expected.
A bright and beautiful young maiden a graduate of Santee or Good Will controls the organ and sweetly leads the service of song. And oh how they do sing! You cannot understand the words, but the airs are familiar. Now it is Bishop Coxe's "Latter Day" sung with vim in the Indian tongue; "We are living, we are dwelling, In a grand and awful time; In an age on ages telling, To be living is sublime."
Her tone was still sweetly languid, her manner most indifferent. The thick and glossy tress that, drawn forward, was to ripple over white neck and bosom was too loosely curled. She regarded it in the mirror with an anxious frown, then spoke of it to the hairdresser. Haward, smiling, watched her with heavy-lidded eyes. "Mr. Lee is a fortunate gentleman," he said.
The sun, as we stood there, was pouring its rays through the graceful mullioned windows, lighting up the delicate carving, work that is rendered more beautiful than ever by the "tender grace of a day that is dead," whilst outside in the deserted garden the birds were singing sweetly. The scene was sadly impressive; one felt as one does when standing by the grave of some old friend.
Ruby's mamma could not help worrying about her little girl, and while naughty little Ruby was curled up in her blankets, sleeping as sweetly as a little bird in its nest, her mamma was listening to the wheels of the doctor's buggy, rolling out of the yard, with a beating heart, and wondering what had happened to the little girl who had gone to bed not two hours ago.
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