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Updated: June 26, 2025
Under the old regime that sward was hard, and knotty tufts of weed as well as grass grew up here and there in profusion; but already, under the English government, it was beginning to assume the velvet-like appearance which a properly kept lawn ought to have. Nora hated to feel such softness; she disliked everything which seemed to her to flavor of the English and their ways.
She trod over the tops of the deep drifts with an accentuation of her usual strong free step. The snow fell thickly and steadily, a cold, finely-spun, straight-hung curtain, veiling all the muffled sleeping valley. There was an inconceivable silence about her as she drew her snow-shoes over the velvet-like masses of the snow.
He was a tall young fellow with a woman's face and beautiful velvet-like eyes, as handsome and idle a youth as you might meet in Subiaco on a summer's feast-day.
The rest of the drive was taken up in hasty chattering, as though they were going to be separated in just a few moments, and would leave something untold; and Olive never noticed that they had entered some tall gates, and were going up a white gravel road that wound in and out of the velvet-like lawn; and had quite forgotten her trepidation at meeting Mr.
This old woman led him into a new world, hitherto unknown to him. The very first day, having put him to bed, she seated herself by his side, and, bending over the child, asked him: "Shall I tell you a story, Fomushka?" And after that Foma always fell asleep amid the velvet-like sounds of the old woman's voice, which painted before him a magic life.
The ivy-grown city-wall, a group of fine cypresses, a few stone-pines with their lovely velvet-like verdure, the gray old pyramid of Caius Cestius immediately behind the cemetery, and a glimpse of the dreamy-looking Alban Hills on the farther side of the Campagna, make up a landscape which no artistic eye can rest on without being deeply penetrated by the charm of it.
Oak Cliff is famous for its scenery and for its velvet-like greens. "I'm going to play my best game this afternoon," announced Miss Harding when I had teed her ball. "I always play my best game; don't you?" I asked. "You shall judge of that when we finish this round," she declared.
She took the foremost, a dark bay, by the nose strap of its leather head-stall, patted the beast's sleek neck, looked into its prominent, heavy-lidded eyes, the blue film over the velvet-like iris and pupil of them giving a singular softness of effect, drew down the fine, aristocratic head, and kissed the little star where the hair turned in the centre of the smooth, hard forehead.
It was a trip full of pleasure and incident. Now we were shown the remains of old Cardross Castle, where it was said Robert Bruce breathed his last. And now we came near the beautiful grounds of Roseneath, a green, velvet-like peninsula, stretching out into the widening waters.
The radiant and yet serene eyes of Anna seemed to read my soul; and when I had done speaking she arose, stole timidly to my side of the table, as woman approaches when she feels most, placed her velvet-like hand on my burning forehead, pressed its throbbing pulses gently to her heart, burst into tears, and fled. We dined alone, nor did we meet again until the dinner hour.
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