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There were bits of old carving about the walls of the room yet, but, as in the shop below, all had been whitewashed. At one end stood a bed with chintz curtains and a warm-looking counterpane of rich faded embroidery. There was a bit of carpet by the bedside, and another bit in front of the fire; and there the old man sat, on one side, in a high-backed not very easy- looking chair.

The sun sets: the air near has a peculiar transparency as of crystal; over the distance lies a soft, warm-looking haze; with the dew a crimson light is shed on the fields, lately plunged in floods of limpid gold; from trees and bushes and high stacks of hay run long shadows.... The sun has set: a star gleams and quivers in the fiery sea of the sunset... and now it pales; the sky grows blue; the separate shadows vanish; the air is plunged in darkness.

This would have been more effective, but it would not have been true, and the truth obliges me to own that she had a stout, warm-looking knit jacket on. The pail-which was half her height and twice her bulk-was filled to overflowing with small pieces of coal and coke, and if it had not been for this I might have taken her for a child of the better classes, she was so comfortably clad.

He went out to dinner several times in his evening suit that had been William's. Each time his mother's heart was firm with pride and joy. He was started now. The studs she and the children had bought for William were in his shirt-front; he wore one of William's dress shirts. But he had an elegant figure. His face was rough, but warm-looking and rather pleasing.

Turning a corner very soon as they walked up what Curtis said was Market Street, they reached, on a narrow side street, a little, warm-looking cottage, from almost all the lower windows of which the lamplight shone cheerfully. There was a garden beside it, with a big grape arbor arranged like a summer-house with rustic chairs and a table.

"And then again, what I feel about the red is that it is so warm-looking. Red makes you FEEL warm even when you're NOT warm. You know what I mean, dear!" "Well then, why not have the red? It suits you red." "No; do you really think so?" "Well, when you've got a colour, I mean, of course!" "Yes, that is the drawback to red. No, I think, on the whole, the grey is SAFER."

The hands, whose fingers thrummed on the glass-topped desk, were soft, warm-looking, and always moist, with a dampness that on contact made you feel vaguely that you had touched oil and you had. Both of the other men were beardless, but one had the ghost of a moustache on his upper lip. He was dapper, clean and deferential.

It was a spring-like, warm-looking, deceptive day, with a bright sun and a cold east wind. Anne sat, a queer-looking figure, in an unnecessary mackintosh and a golf-cap, on a bench in a large open space in Hyde Park, looking absently at some shabby sheep. She had come here to be alone, to think. Soon she would be alone as much as she liked much more.

Anne found herself already deciding that she LIKED this man. She went on with Jinny's small toilet, even while she wondered about her caller, and while she decided that Jim should have an overcoat of exactly this big, generous cut, and of exactly this delightful, warm-looking rough cloth, some day.

Then, near the fire-place, was a snug little book- case, well furnished with books; and over the mantelpiece, in the centre of a warm-looking paper, was the text, in large characters, "The love of Christ constraineth us." The mantelpiece itself glittered with a variety of brass utensils, all brightly polished.