Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 3, 2025
"Why, doctor!" she exclaimed with a forced little laugh that trembled in her fresh, young throat, "what a funny question!" "I am quite serious," he added, with a sudden vibrant tone in his voice. Impulsively his hand closed over hers; she felt for a second the warm pressure of his fingers, the next instant she started to her feet.
There was no question that Rock Creek would sell at forty before the month ended, and they did not want her to be "left" when the "melon was cut." Another and a newer and a more vibrant song now rose to her lips. Forty for Rock Creek meant four six yes, eight hundred dollars with two hundred to Mr. Taylor! Yes! Six hundred clear!
She held out her hand to me, saying in a voice still fresh, sonorous and vibrant: "Thank you, monsieur. How kind it is of the men of to-day to remember the women of yesterday! Sit down." I told her that her house had attracted me, that I had inquired for the proprietor's name, and that, on learning it, I could not resist the desire to ring her bell.
There was neither laughter nor song in Jan Thoreau's voice. It was vibrant with a strange savageness which was more savage than the wildest yells of the half-breed Crees, and his great eyes burned fiercely as they rested for an instant upon Cummins' face. Close behind Cummins stood Williams. Jan saw him, and his knife dropped to his side.
The Gothic archway gaped wide to the spring sunshine. Olga came swiftly to it, and there stood suddenly still. "Nick!" she said. "Nick!" Her voice was vibrant, her eyes widely staring into the gloom within. He slipped his arm about her, that wiry arm of great strength that had served her so often. "I am here, darling," he said soothingly. Olga turned to him in piteous appeal.
"Why blame or reproach me, Myra darling?" he said at last, his deep voice vibrant. "Remember that you tempted me, challenged me. It was to me that you spoke, and not to Standish, when you said you wanted to be kissed by the man who loved you, and not by a cold-blooded Englishman.
But something " "You was going to complain," put in his lady, heavily, "about that Teddy Sykes at the Palace Gardens singing the same songs this week that you been boosting at the Inn." He put up a vibrant, peremptory hand. "Bah! What does that matter now! What does anything matter now! Listen Miss ah Miss ?" "Pl Sheehan. Terry Sheehan." He gazed off a moment into space. "Hm.
At times it rose, vibrant with inexpressible feeling, and fell again into gentler, yearning cadences that wrung the soul with a longing that was world-old and world-wide, that reached out towards the unattainable stare and, reaching, became immortal. Thus was the end of it, fainting as it drifted heavenward. Then the window was closed. Austen walked on; whither, he knew not.
His head was truly small, his shoulders vast; the spring of his back was like a rainbow when the sun is southing; the generous sweep of his deep elastic belly, nobly pulped out with rich nurture, showed what the power of his brain must be, and seemed to undulate, time for time, with the vibrant vigilance of his large wise eyes. His latter end was consistent also.
Presently the air was vibrant with the low, sweet strains of distant music, soft and slow and of such exquisite harmony that it seemed a rare combination of all that was inspiring, charming and beautiful in the variations of time, sound and rythm. The combined effect of the light and the music on Fillmore Flagg was electrical. Every nerve was thrilled with rapture. He was completely absorbed.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking