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Updated: June 15, 2025
Her jewellery lay molten with it. Her portrait had been torn from its frame. An intolerable fear possessed him. Drops of sweat hung on his forehead and his hands. He fled towards the town. He bit his finger-nails till they bled as he passed the house in the pines. He lifted his arm as if the flappings of The Crimson Flag were blows in his face. At last he passed Tom Liffey's hut.
By degrees, not only they, but the whole room, everything surrounding her, seemed like a dream everything: the samovar on the table, and Uvar Ivanovitch's short waistcoat, and Zoya's polished finger-nails, and the portrait in oils of the Grand Duke Constantine Pavlovitch on the wall; everything retreated, everything was wrapped in mist, everything ceased to exist.
I fancy I touched it with a dead man's finger-nails." She crossed her wrists tight at the clasp of her waist, and letting her chin fall on her throat, shook her body fretfully, much as a pettish little girl might do. Wilfrid grimaced. "Tick-tick" was not a pathetic elegy in his ears. "The only thing is, not to think about it," said he. "It's only an instrument, after all."
O'Connor sat down and with his finger-nails pried open the box of cigars. "Mind if I smoke with you?" he asked. "I need it. I'm shot up with unexpected things this morning. Do you care if I ask you about the girl?" "The girl!" exclaimed Kent. He sat up straighter, staring at O'Connor. The staff-sergeant's eyes were on him with questioning steadiness.
'Any commands, your honour? 'You bring the countess to my lord immediately, said Gower. Kit swallowed his mouthful of surprise in a second look at Madge and the ploughed garden-bed beneath the chamber window. 'Are the orders written, sir? 'To me? for me to deliver to you? for you to do my lord's bidding? Where's your head? Kit's finger-nails travelled up to it. Madge pushed past him.
This grim expression, had he known it, was due mainly to the fact that her fastidious gaze had become riveted upon his very black finger-nails, as they clutched the white spread, and her resolution to alter their aspect as soon as daylight dawned.
Her jewellery lay molten with it. Her portrait had been torn from its frame. An intolerable fear possessed him. Drops of sweat hung on his forehead and his hands. He fled towards the town. He bit his finger-nails till they bled as he passed the house in the pines. He lifted his arm as if the flappings of The Crimson Flag were blows in his face. At last he passed Tom Liffey's hut.
I seized it between two finger-nails, and pulled as hard as I could. It came toward me gently. It was a long gold pin which had been slipped into a hole in the wood and remained hidden there. Why? I immediately thought that it must have served to work some spring which hid a secret, and I looked. It took a long time.
Some of the beautiful and frail, of whom he thought when he gave his usual toast after dinner, "To the Wimmin who have loved me," would hardly recognize the fair boy over whom they had raved, whose poems they had loved, whose hair, finger-nails, eyes, ties, socks and teeth they had complimented. A cruel, cruel waste. But how rather romantic the war-worn soldier!
When using arsenic-water grease your hands with a little tallow, rubbing well under and around finger-nails and wiping the hands partially dry so that none of the grease will soil fur or feathers. This precaution will keep the arsenic from entering your skin. Wash the hands with soap powder and a nail brush after work.
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