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But there was nothing in his ingenuous, weather-tanned face to warrant a suspicion that he was making an allusion nothing. Beyond a doubt, thought Octavia, he had forgotten. "Mr. Westlake likes his fun," said Mrs. Maclntyre, as she conducted Octavia to her rooms. "But," she added, loyally, "people around here usually pay attention to what he says when he talks in earnest.
"I'm glad, too," she replied candidly; "and this is Mrs. Ophelia Cobb just Ophelia Uncle Josiah," Carolyn added, turning to Old Heck who clumsily shook hands with the widow while his weather-tanned face flushed a burning, uncomfortably red. "We was expecting you," he said, retaining life hold on her hand. "That was very kind," Ophelia murmured. "I am sure we are delighted to be here."
Steve, in his buckskin shirt and moleskin trousers, which divested him of the last sign of his relationship to the force which administered the white man's law. His young face so set and weather-tanned, so full of decision and strength, and his eyes, far gazing, like those of the men of the deep seas. And the boy upon his knee, his little hands clasping each other in his lap.
A moment later I was ushered into his presence, to find myself clasping hands with the sort of chap that the world holds only too few of. He was a tall, smooth-faced man of about thirty, clean-cut, straight, and strong, and weather-tanned to the hue of a desert Arab.
She noted the huge frame, broad, yet lean with the gaunt leanness of health, and endurance, and physical strength. The sinew-corded, bronzed hands that clenched slowly as his glance rested for a moment upon the face of Lapierre. The weather-tanned neck that rose, columnlike, from the open shirt-throat. The well-poised head. The prominent, high-bridged nose.
Wedge?" said she, to the weather-tanned renter of boats. "How do you do? I'm late. How's the little Lady Jane?" "How you, Miss Heth? Glad to see you back again, Miss. Lady Jane's trim as ever. Yes'm. And there's a little sou' breeze coming up puffy, but just suit her." "Bring her up a little more." "Yes'm there now! Feels most like summer, don't it?"
During the three days that yet intervened before the coming of the date fixed for the introduction of the bill, the centaur lobby did valiant service. Coatless, spurred, weather-tanned, full of enthusiasm expressed in bizarre terms, they loafed in front of the painting with tireless zeal.
Between them the new candle, brought for the signing of the relinquishment, flared and sputtered. Bob stumbled to his feet. "Good night," said he. Samuels neither moved nor stirred. He might have been a figure such as used to be placed before the entrances of wax works exhibitions, so still he sat, so fixed were his eyes, so pallid the texture of his weather-tanned flesh after the vigil.
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