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Updated: May 13, 2025
In the cool of the evening I sat at the door of my hotel, and watched the long files of the work-worn factory-girls stream by, with no concern for them but to see which was pretty and which was plain, and with no dream of a truer order than that which gave them ten hours' work a day in those hideous mills and lodged them in the barracks where they rested from their toil.
You shall never live anywhere but here with us. Why, you are our good angel, Auntie. We could never get on without you you know that." Aunt Amy nodded, stroking the girl's soft hand with her work-worn one. "You are good and kind, Esther. I know you will take care of me, if you can. And I'm not afraid just now. It will be all right if I am clever. I must not be troublesome.
For heaven's sake! Go to the door!" "I can't," repeated Rose, in a kind of wail. "I can't." And went. As she went she passed one futile, work-worn hand over her hair, plucked off her apron and tossed it into; a corner, first wiping her flushed face with it. Henry Selz came up the shabby stairs springily as a man of forty should. Rose stood at the door and waited for him.
My hope now was to possess a minute isle of safety in the midst of the streaming currents of western life a little solid ground in my native valley on which the surviving members of my family could catch and cling. All about me as I travelled, I now perceived the mournful side of American "enterprise." Sons were deserting their work-worn fathers, daughters were forgetting their tired mothers.
She noticed that the slender hand that Evelyn put forth to meet hers was very soft and white. It had evidently done no hard work and was in sharp contrast to the rough, work-worn hands of her sister. "I'm sure I am pleased to know you, Miss Harlowe, and very thankful to you for arranging for my coming to Overton.
A Tory slew her little sister with a hatchet; then her husband fell; and then, before her eyes, a blue-eyed Indian pinned her baby to its cradle with a bayonet." I crossed the room to where she stood, offering my hand; and she laid her thin and work-worn fingers listlessly in mine. "Madam," I said gently, "there are today two thousand widows such as you betwixt Oriska and Schenectady.
Paint us an angel, if you can, with a floating violet robe, and a face paled by the celestial light; paint us yet oftener a Madonna, turning her mild face upward and opening her arms to welcome the divine glory; but do not impose on us any aesthetic rules which shall banish from the region of Art those old women scraping carrots with their work-worn hands, those heavy clowns taking holiday in a dingy pot-house, those rounded backs and stupid weather-beaten faces that have bent over the spade and done the rough work of the world those homes with their tin pans, their brown pitchers, their rough curs, and their clusters of onions.
His life was slowly bleeding away. "Have you got wet, little Karen?" he murmured. "Ah, well, it'll dry again! And now it's all well with you, now you can't complain. Is it fine to be a young lady? Only tell me everything you want. Why be modest? We've been that long enough! Gloves for the work-worn fingers, yes, yes. But you must play something for me too.
I was not his feudal lord, but his sad, work-worn aspect gave me as keen a pang as if I had been. The Pays de Vaud is also the land of castles, and the visitor to Vevay should not fail to see Blonay Castle, the seat of the ancient family which, with intervals of dispossession, has possessed it ever since the Crusades.
I knew then how she had looked when she faced the Bavarian officer, and why he had not hacked those two work-worn but nobly shaped hands of hers, to get at the French chasseur's throat. She seemed the incarnate spirit of the mother-woman, whose selfless courage no brute who had known a mother could resist. And her "No!" rang out deep and clear as a warning tocsin.
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