Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 26, 2025
"Well, I had hoped, Mr. Ballmolly," said Vancouver, with some affected hesitation, "that as an old friend, we might be able to manage matters with you. But, of course, this is entirely unofficial, and between ourselves." Mr. Ballymolloy nodded with something very like a wink of one bloodshot eye. He knew what he was about. "And when will you be thinking of beginning the work, Mr.
It reached the size of life. And then, as I stared upon it, the face altered before my eyes. It became older, less childish, more firm and manly but oh, Uniacke! a thousand times more horrible." "How? How?" "Why, it became puffy, bloated, dropsical. The eyes were glazed and bloodshot. On the lips there was foam. The fingers of the hands were twisted and distorted. The teeth grinned hideously.
Men who had wives of their own grew moody and downcast because they could not hope to marry her, while the bachelors of the Fianna stared at each other with truculent, bloodshot eyes, and then they gazed on Tuiren so gently that she may have imagined she was being beamed on by the mild eyes of the dawn.
"One week, maybe, be all right," answered the Indian. And his words proved correct. Daily he gathered fresh roots, treating Jack's eyes as skilfully as the oldest medicine man of his tribe could have done, until the poor red rims faded white, and the bloodshot eyeballs grew clear and bluish.
Could that be his son's face, the son of a brave man? It was pale and ghastly with scoundrel fears; the base drops stood on the brow; the eye was haggard and bloodshot. He looked as a coward looks when death stands before him.
I slept disturbedly, haunted by terrific dreams, and oppressed by the nightmare and her nine-fold, and awoke with a dreadful headache; stiff in every joint, and with deadly sickness of the stomach which lasted for two or three days; my throat contracted and parched, my tongue furred, my eyes bloodshot, and the whole surface of my body burning hot.
It was bad for me with the rope round me, it must have been awful for you, my poor esmanus poor scarecrow Ranulph." Scarecrow indeed he looked. His clothes were nearly gone, his hair was tossed and matted, his eyes bloodshot, his big hands like pieces of raw meat, his feet covered with blood.
A little old man twisted with rheumatism rose as he stood at the open door and regarded him with a pair of bloodshot, but sharp, old eyes, while an old woman sitting in a Windsor-chair looked up anxiously. "Can I come in?" asked Flower. "Aye," said the old man, standing aside to let him pass. "Hot day," said the skipper, taking a seat. "No, 'tain't," said the old man.
A small table, a couple of chairs with the backs broken off and a few pans and dishes made up the inventory of household goods. As the light made all things clear in this poor room, Andy saw the bloodshot eyes, and grizzly face of a man, not far past middle life. "Who are you, little one?" he growled again as the light gave him a view of Andy's face.
On his last journey he brought him stowed away under the driver's seat. I scarcely knew my old Tom when we opened the moving prison in which he had been confined since the day before. He came out looking a most alarming beast, scratching and spitting, with bristling hair, bloodshot eyes, lips white with foam. I thought him mad and watched him closely for a time.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking