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Updated: August 13, 2024
"Oh, everybody likes Gwin Harley," said Elma; "who could help it? She is so beautiful to look at, and she has such a delightful, lovely home." "I cannot see that her having a lovely, delightful home has anything to do with our liking her," said honest Bessie. "Not to you perhaps," answered Elma, and a queer look, half-wistful, half-defiant, came into her eyes.
He crossed the hall, a queer, half-grim, half-wistful smile on his lips, unlocked the front door, stepped out, locked it behind him and in another moment, doubling around the corner, was running along like a hare along the side street. On Jimmie Dale ran. Across on Fourth Avenue he swung on a car that took him to Astor Place.
With three swift steps she had passed the big man, and was at the curb, and leaning over the car. "John !" she stammered. "My dear my dear!" The man in the car turned upon her the smile she knew so well: a child's half-merry, half-wistful smile, from sea-blue eyes in fair lashes.
And so affairs went on. He thought at times her color quickened a little when he approached suddenly; he fancied that he occasionally surprised a half-wistful, half-mirthful glance, but was not sure. He knew that she was as well aware of his intentions and wishes as if he had proclaimed them through a speaking- trumpet. His only assured ground of comfort was that neither Mr. Merriweather nor Mr.
This was one of the precious privileges of having found a friend. She gazed at Bea with such an adorable half-wistful, half-joyful smile on her delicate face that Bea never quite forgot the sensation of realizing that it was meant wholly for her. The memory of it returned again and again in later days when Lila's exacting ways seemed beyond endurance.
The harbor master recalled with what a world of meaning she had caught it between her teeth on the night of his rescue the eyes with a half-wistful light as now. "Come," she said, "Harbor Master. I wasn't good to you, that's true; but still you have done me a wrong in your turn, you say?" "I hope God will forgive me," said the harbor master. "No doubt of that, little man.
Then at last he slowly turned his head and looked at her with a strange, half-wistful anxiety in his eyes he gazed at her as if his very soul were in that gaze, and lifting his right hand, gently laid it on her shoulder as he had done the evening he had bidden her farewell.
"I've come to take you home with me, Momma dear," he said quietly, using the old name for her, which had been banished from the Emery household since Lydia's early childhood. The sound of it went to her heart. The newcomer smiled at her over his mother's head. It was her father's smile, the quaint, half-wistful, humorous smile, which had seemed so incongruous on the Judge's powerful face.
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