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Updated: May 4, 2025
The massive lines of the chair made her proportions seem wraithlike. Her white face with its fixed spots of red was a high light among the shadows. "Where's Anne?" "She and Ethel have gone to the matinée with Molly Winchell." "Why didn't you go?" "Molly never takes but two of us and, of course, this is Anne's first winter out. I have to step back and let her have her chance."
Here were associations almost living, they were so vivid, yet wraithlike in sheer removedness. It was all very subtle, in its equal-sided force, this resurrection of the forms of youth, to be met by the cold welcome of a change in him.
The mist drew back from the door. Saffron-red lighting panels appeared dimly, then grew distinct. There were small, collapsed bundles of fur upon the floor of the storeroom being exposed to view. They were, probably, the equivalent of rats. And then the last remnant of mist vanished with a curiously wraithlike abruptness, and the end of Jacaro's Tube came into view.
She gave herself time to adore the drapery, with its changes of meteoric lucence, before she rose and took it. She went with it to the background in the library, where, against the glass door of the cases, she involved herself in it and stood shimmering. A thrill pierced to Verrian's heart; she was indeed wraithlike, so that he hated to have her call, "How will that do?" Mrs.
Vague, silent, dim, the wraithlike men stood by, peering with bent brows, just as Dante described the lost souls in Hell peering at Virgil in the eternal night. A dream-crew they seemed. Even though Stern felt the vigorous muscles of the pair who now had borne him up to land, he could scarce realize their living entity. "Beatrice! Beatrice!" he called. "Are you all right?
When he had finished he felt mysteriously sealed to indifference. The nurse came in for the tray and he asked her to switch off the light. He lay for hours, open-eyed, in the gloom, while wraithlike memories materialized and vanished as mysteriously. Somehow the incidents of his life nearest in point of time seemed the remotest.
He pulled the lad's body around so that he could see his face in the smoke-dimmed light. "What about him, Jasper? He's safe, isn't he?" The white face shook from side to side. "What does he say?" cried Grafton. "Whipple? Isn't he down? Where is he?" "He must be !" Kenneth paused, his own face paling, and looked fearsomely toward the stairs down which the gray-brown smoke was floating wraithlike.
Philip was very grateful that the Baron had not misunderstood; a breath might shatter the idyllic crystal into atoms. Later, when the Baron had departed, Philip flushed suddenly at the ugly suspicion rising wraithlike in his mind. He was accustomed to the Baron's subtleties. "Mr. Poynter!" called Diane. Mr. Poynter perversely went on whittling out the hollow of his wildwood pipe. "Mr. Poynter!"
Thin scuds of vapor darted across the sky, driven by the morning breeze; dissolved and reformed a little farther on. Tenuous wisps, evanescent, wraithlike. The sun shone steadily, unobscured. "Those little things," said Joan unbelievingly. "Why, if that's all you're depending on, we're finished." "Nevertheless they are rain clouds. But when the rain will come is another matter.
Something is there, we perceive, something that moves and sways and rises and ebbs fitfully in the dim light. But it is a wraithlike thing, and undulates and falls before our eyes like flames that have neither redness nor heat.
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