Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 18, 2025
"I never work in that place again," announced the old man with a sigh. "I said it." "That shop isn't light enough, is it?" suggested the messenger. "There is no light and no room," agreed Heinrich. "Your eyes began to give out on you, didn't they?" Heinrich straightened himself and his waxen-white face turned a delicate pink with indignation.
The cook wore the gorgeous Navajo blanket tied around his waist and carried in one band the waxen-white Spanish dagger blossom as large as a peck-measure and weighing fifteen pounds. His hat was ornamented with mesquite branches and yellow ratama blooms. A resurrected mosquito bar served as a veil.
He had waxen-white cheeks with daubs of pink as if they had been put there from a rouge pot. His hair was nicely scented, oiled, and patted down. His small hands were white and perfectly manicured. Nippers began to snicker openly at him. But the sharp variety and incisiveness of the oaths he vented at us, soon disabused us of any opinion we might have held that he was sissified....
Beadon Clarke listened with the passivity of a man encompassed by melancholy, and sunk deep in the abyss of shame. Aristide Dumeny was reading a letter which he held with long-fingered, waxen-white hands very near to his narrow dark eyes.
"Alas! poor human nature," Uncle James philosophised, shaking his head. "You never know you never know." Aunt Victoria looked him straight in the eyes, but made no further show of emotion, except that she sat more rigidly upright than usual perhaps, and the rose-tint faded from her delicate face, leaving it waxen-white beneath her auburn front.
Trembling with suppressed passion, the lawyer walked deliberately to the steps, his face waxen-white. "I told you to come no nearer. I'd advise you to go away," said he. His low voice, contrasting sharply with his flushed cheeks and blazing eyes, testified eloquently of the tremendous curb imposed upon his temper.
"Do you mean to say that you do not know?" "Upon my soul, no!" replied the Baron. Bellamy threw open the newspaper before him. "Von Behrling was murdered last night, ten minutes after our interview." The Baron adjusted his eyeglass with shaking fingers. His face now was waxen-white as he spread out the newspaper upon the table and read the paragraph word by word.
His pallor reminded Theydon of the tint of ivory, of that waxen-white Dutch grisaille beloved of fifteenth century illuminators of manuscripts. His silence was disturbing, almost irritating, his manner singularly calm.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking