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  • Melody gazed down, startled. An older man was coming up the road to greet her. He had strong masculine features and a bald head; he wore dirty blue coveralls and a smile Melody had missed dearly for five years. Her heart jumped.
  • Agent Ann Rogers wore a dark, very well fitting suit that could almost have been worn by a man. Not a hair was out of place. It was kept short, and perfectly captured. Her makeup was light and precisely applied. She was thin lipped and had a narrow, terse stare. Markman knew he was dealing with a perfectionist.
  • Vince was seaman enough to know what to do, and, warning his companion to keep a sharp look-out ahead, he took off his jacket, and then dragged the jersey shirt he wore over his head. Kneeling in the bottom of the boat, he proceeded to stuff the worsted garment into a jagged hole, through which the clear water came bubbling up like some spring.
  • So armed only with his legal pad and a twelve year old photo, Bubba began making daily treks into Charleston and Savannah in search of the heir to the throne. The less progress he made, the more obsessed he became. He left behind all the shyness which had characterized his own dealings with society for sixty years and found himself accosting perfect strangers on the street or in the midst of their work. He listened to more irrelevant discourses and hard luck stories than in all his years as a circuit judge, and he wore out the transmission in his car. But he kept on looking.
  • There followed a pause. Then, at some sign from Panda, a side gate in the fence was opened, and through it appeared Saduko, who walked proudly to the space in front of the King, to whom he gave the salute of "Bayete," and, at a sign, sat himself down upon the ground. Next, through the same gate, to which she was conducted by some women, came Mameena, quite unchanged and, I think, more beautiful than she had ever been. So lovely did she look, indeed, in her cloak of grey fur, her necklet of blue beads, and the gleaming rings of copper which she wore upon her wrists and ankles, that every eye was fixed upon her as she glided gracefully forward to make her obeisance to Panda.
  • She noted with amusement that the miracle-worker seemed awed by her, as well she should. The poor thing looked like she hadnt slept since her arrival, her hair was falling out of its braid and her clothing was stained and spotted with blood and medicines. In contrast, Teleri wore an expensive scarlet surcoat of fine brocade, embroidered with gold thread in swirling patterns. Her long, dark reddish hair had been brushed until it shone, left unbound and capped with a sheer, pale veil and a golden circlet. Her tapered fingers were capped with clean, white-tipped nails and the perfume of the lavender with which she had scented her bath almost defeated the sick smell of the chamber. She exuded cleanliness and wealth. She was impressive.
  • Other dwarves surfaced. Ten in number now stood upon the surface of the sand. They wore goggles made of tinted gems to protect their vision from the desert light, but their eyes widened at the unexpected sight of the elves.
  • "The little girl looking for an old woman, yes?" he rumbled. The portly captain wore his clothes as a peacock might display his feathers. His pantaloons were of the deepest red, while his coat was a silk wash that wandered from sky blue to sea green, depending on the light. Gold buckles and winking cut glass flickered in the sunlight at every angle.
  • We looked at it. It was a copper or bronze plaque, black, apparently with age, which once had been nailed on something for there were the holes. It represented a tall man with a long beard and a tonsured head who held a cross in his hand; and two other men, both short, who wore round metal caps and were dressed in queer-looking garments and boots with square toes. These man carried big and heavy matchlocks, and in the hand of one of them was a smoking fuse. That was all we could make out of the thing.
  • I have nothing to conceal, she said, proudly raising her head. "It was the most wretched and the most dangerous period of my life. While suffering humiliation at home, outside I was surrounded with attentions, with temptations, with pitfalls, like any woman who is seen to be neglected by her husband. Then I remembered: before my marriage, a man had been in love with me. I had guessed his unspoken love; and he has died since. I had the name of that man engraved inside the ring; and I wore it as a talisman. There was no love in me, because I was the wife of another. But, in my secret heart, there was a memory, a sad dream, something sweet and gentle that protected me...."
  • 'I don't know, Mr. Loftus, exactly what you mean by a "ring-goat in a Spanish dress"' (the priest had just smuggled over a wonderful bit of ecclesiastical toggery from Salamanca): 'and--a--person wearing patches, you said of--of--patches of concupiscence, I think.' (Father Roach's housekeeper unfortunately wore patches, though, it is right to add, she was altogether virtuous, and by no means young); 'but I'm bound to suppose, by the amusement our friends seem to derive from it, Sir, that a ring-goat, whatever it means, is a good joke, as well as a good-natured one.'
  • Well, the Atterby-Smiths had so far effectually put a stop to any talk of such matters and even if Lady Ragnall should succeed in getting rid of them by that morning train, as to which I was doubtful, there remained but a single day of my visit during which it ought not to be hard to stave off the subject. Thus I reflected, standing face to face with those mummies, till presently I observed that the Singer of Amen who wore a staring, gold mask, seemed to be watching me with her oblong painted eyes. To my fancy a sardonic smile gathered in them and spread to the mouth.
  • I was playing in the yard with John one afternoon, when Mr. Hancock came to the window. He had on a gorgeous flowered silk dressing-gown, and instead of his big white wig, wore on his head a cap or turban of the same gorgeous silk. I hardly knew him, and stared at him.
  • The next time I heard approaching footsteps I could scarce await to see if Parthak wore the harness and the sword, but judge, if you can, my chagrin and disappointment when I saw that he who bore my food was not Parthak.
  • Several more trains passed, loaded with coal. There were men working along the tracks, some dealing directly with the stagnant trains, while others carried a pick and shovel, fixing some discrepancy in the track itself. They wore thin, sleeveless undershirts and heavy, dark pants or coveralls, as they swung the pick high over their heads.
  • Throwing myself into one, I began to discuss my frugal luncheon with considerable appetite, and had nearly finished when the door opened, and in came the most curious-looking little man I have ever set eyes on. That he was a seaman was perfectly apparent to the meanest intelligence, and I at once set him down as the first officer--as they call themselves nowadays--or perhaps even the skipper, of a tramp steamer. He was certainly not more than five feet in height, but his breadth of shoulder and depth of chest were so enormous as to amount, literally, to a deformity; and I should judge that his strength must be herculean, as the novelists say. He was bronzed to the colour of deep mahogany, and had a heavy black moustache and a beard which grew right up to his eyes--deep-set, black, and as brilliant as diamonds. Added to this he wore gold ear-rings, and, altogether, was as like my conception of one of the pirates of old, about whom we used to read in our young days, as any man possibly could be."
  • At that moment, Decker felt a shadow cast across him and he half-turned in his chair to find Sarge Safran looming over him. The man stared out across the river, his short-cropped hair covered by a flannel drivers cap. He wore a dark cable-knit sweater and a question suddenly popped in Clydes mind: Where does a man as huge as the Sarge find clothes that fit him?
  • Everyone turned as one and faced the mysterious man standing behind them. The man was clad in armor. A crusaders armor. He wore a thick, golden-brown beard over his tanned face. His deepblue eyes were freezing, slushy with indignation and fury.
  • With a twist of her body, Danis was out of her hammock and onto the floor, her bare feet light on the cold stone. In the corner, her sister Esta twisted and grunted in her sleep. Her other two sisters lay still as stones in their hammocks near the wall. Daniss day clothes were all the way on their side of the room; after a moments hesitation, she turned toward the door. Whether she was right or wrong about the sound, she would need no more covering than the short tunic she wore to sleep. She fingered the rat-tooth necklace that hung around her neck, then swallowed hard and forced her feet to move.
  • She wore upon her brow the uraeus of Ancient Egyptian royalty; her sole garment was a robe of finest gauze. Like a cloud, like a vision, she floated into the light cast by the tripod.
  • He stepped into a funeral wake. The entire team was at the park and for once, they were early. Sarge scanned the room. All eyes were on him, but not one man spoke. Even Mickey the Midget, who wore Marielles dress with his uniform shirt buttoned over top, sat silently on the edge of the bench chewing an unlit White Owl stogie. Simon Says sat cross-legged in the corner. He rocked back and forth while Chew-on Mans case sat tightly closed in front of him.
  • "I guess they do seem fancy considering the embroidery, but that's only the upper parts. Underneath is real leather with strong soles," she explained. "Actually, I only wore these today because I wanted to impress someone I met with earlier, and frankly I expected a carriage ride home that wasn't offered. You would approve of what I normally wear, I think"
  • One of the three was dark, the other two were fair. The dark one was the senior of the party. He wore an incipient full beard, evidently in process of training, with a considerable amount of grizzle in it.
  • It was in the garden behind the Patterson house that we met the General, and he alarmed me very much by pulling my shoulders back and asking me my age, and whether or not I expected to be as brave a soldier as my grandfather, to which latter question I said, "Yes, General," and then could have cried with mortification, for all of the great soldiers laughed at me. One of them turned, and said to the only one who was seated, "That is Hamilton's grandson." The man who was seated did not impress me very much. He was younger than the others. He wore a black suit and a black tie, and the three upper buttons of his waistcoat were unfastened.
  • She stood with her hand half raised. She had never seen the man before her. He was a tall, imposing gentleman, in a dark suit, over which he wore a light-colored overcoat. One hand was gloved, and in the other he held a hat. His slightly curling brown beard and hair were trimmed after the fashion of the day, and his face, though darkened by the sun, showed no trace of toil, or storm, or anxious danger. He was a tall, broad-shouldered gentleman, with an air of courtesy, an air of dignity, an air of forbearance, which were as utterly unknown to her as everything else about him, except his eyes--those were the same eyes she had seen on board the Castor and on the desert sands.
  • Several days passed and nothing of importance happened. The boys and girls enjoyed themselves thoroughly, and the Endicotts did all in their power to make the visitors feel at home. At first, Jessie was inclined to be a little shy, but soon this wore away and she felt as happy as anybody.
  • THE RAIN HAD FINALLY stopped, and now I was sitting beside a table of three women who looked like secretaries. One of them was wearing a red silk blindfold, even though it wasn't a fetish night. A sign made of red construction paper hung from a string around her neck. It said, Kiss Me, I'm Getting Married. The others already wore wedding bands. There was no one else in the place.
  • Roy was just about to clamber into the chassis when Peggy and Jess, who had been missing for several minutes, emerged from their tent. Each girl wore an aviation hood and stout leather gauntlets. Plainly they were dressed for aerial flight. Roy gazed at them quizzically.
  • One morning Colonel Berg, whom Pierre knew as he knew everybody in Moscow and Petersburg, came to see him. Berg arrived in an immaculate brand-new uniform, with his hair pomaded and brushed forward over his temples as the Emperor Alexander wore his hair.
  • Passing into a narrow channel, in which at every turn they came close upon swimming and sleeping seals, they suddenly swept up to the verge of a vast and heavy field, on which thousands of the young of these animals lay in helpless inability to move. Most of these were what are called "white-coats,"--fat little things, covered with a thick coat of woolly fur,--but a few had attained their third week of existence, and wore their close-laid fur, whose silvery, sword-like fibres, when wet, lie flat and smooth as glass.
  • 'May I help you?' An old Chinese man rustled long beads hanging across the doorway behind the counter. He wore a white cotton top and black trousers, thin and wiry like an aged Bruce Lee.
  • For the next five weeks each Monday, Wednesday and Friday evenings, Ben and Yana sparred, punched, thrusted, kicked, blocked and generally wore each other out for an hour under the watchful eye of Akira Misaki. Both scored some degree of injury on the other. Ben suffered a black eye in the first week and multiple bruises to his legs, arms and torso. Then he decided that she may be a beautiful woman but she was hurting him and that had to stop. In the second week he gave her a black eye and fractured one of the fingers on her left hand.
  • Before him, surrounded by his followers, stood a man of medium height, but evidently possessed of great muscular strength. He wore a nondescript costume of buckskin, studded with silver buttons and surmounted by a serape that had once been red, but now was sadly faded by wind and weather. A murderous machete was thrust into a flaunting sash that served as a belt and a black sombrero overshadowed his face.
  • By this time the destroyer was rolling at such an angle that the order was passed for the life-lines. Soon after that a second order was issued that all men on outside duty must don life-belts. Even up on the bridge, with an abundance of hand-holds, Dave and Ensign Andrews wore the belts.
  • Slowly, after the manner of locomotion habitual to the Mahars, when they are not using their wings, we crept through throngs of busy slaves, Sagoths, and Mahars. After what seemed an eternity we reached the outer door which leads into the main avenue of Phutra. Many Sagoths loitered near the opening. They glanced at Ghak as he padded between them. Then Perry passed, and then Hooja. Now it was my turn, and then in a sudden fit of freezing terror I realized that the warm blood from my wounded arm was trickling down through the dead foot of the Mahar skin I wore and leaving its tell-tale mark upon the pavement, for I saw a Sagoth call a companion's attention to it.
  • A tall, beautiful woman with a mass of plaited hair and much exposed plump white shoulders and neck, round which she wore a double string of large pearls, entered the adjoining box rustling her heavy silk dress and took a long time settling into her place.
  • The night wore on. Wearily, Nat clung to the small wheel in front of him, shifting the course of the vessel now and then, as he picked out the route on the chart, or made a quick shift to avoid some bar or island. His arms and legs were weary. His eyes were hot and smarting from lack of slumber and rest. But he stuck it out. Captain Turton offered to relieve him, but the boy did not want to give up. Even had he done so, the relief would have been short, as, while the commander was proposing it, word came that the ship had sprung a small leak, and the captain's presence was needed to see that the pumps were set going.
  • Leaving the cavern afterwards proved to be slightly anticlimactic but as the group trekked down the mountain, Caelia's excitement began to build. She was actually outside and proving she could do anything a mere adult could. The hike was more arduous than she had expected but tired muscles did not lessen her fortitude. The trail down the mountainside was narrow and camouflaged. Stairways made the hike easier in steep places but these were so well hidden that frequently it was difficult to tell which stones were part of the stairs and which were just loose rocks. Everyone wore a backpack and groups of men carefully lowered carts with good brakes down the slope; thus the manufactured products of Annles-Scientia were carried on the first leg toward the outside world.
  • Some laughed, but not many. Most of them seemed to think there was deep wisdom in his answer to be dug for meditatively, as no doubt there was. Then a man on the edge of the crowd a long way off from me, who wore the air of a humorist, asked him about me.
  • On the other side of the table sat Abrafo, a teenager with dark brown skin and deep mulberry eyes. The side of his neck bore a raised welt. He wore the same kind of shirt as Fikna, but with sky blue short trousers and grey blue tights.
  • Dreth looked Mud over. He didnt seem to be much of a troll in the traditional sense. Barely as tall as Dreth, the creature had a hunchback and wore round battered spectacles. His skin was a sickly white color, instead of healthy green. Under one arm he held an enormous book.
  • The fisherman was typical of his race, that strange people whose origin is lost in the gray dawn of the past, and who have dwelt in their rude fishing huts along the southern shore of the Sea of Vilayet since time immemorial. He was broadly built, with long, apish arms and a mighty chest, but with lean loins and thin, bandy legs. His face was broad, his forehead low and retreating, his hair thick and tangled. A belt for a knife and a rag for a loin cloth were all he wore in the way of clothing.
  • A thick hedge surrounded the field and that night two figures lay hidden beneath it. One was a man of thirty and the other a youth of eighteen, and they gazed across the ground by the light of the star-dazzle. The hedge branches picked at their clothes and tried to pull threads loose, but that hardly mattered considering the already tattered condition of the garments they wore.
  • "Interesting. When I come across a mirror I shall have to look in it," Uritus said as he looked down at the sacred robes of his god. In all the commotion over the past few days, he was unable to even try them on. Finally he found time to return to the room where they were found and wear them. It was odd clothing to say the least; the inside did not seem to be made of fabric at all, but rather some sort of strange blackness. It was almost as if the inside of the robes was made of shadow, his fingers unable to feel it. The sight was very disorienting, so he did not examine it for very long. Instead he had pulled the strange robes over his head and finally completed the task that his god had given him. At last he wore the robes of Inshae.
  • Barker, still wearing his rain-splattered jacket, stood looking through the streaked Plexiglas window of a swinging door that led into the repair shops garage where Fred had Barkers car on the lift. There were two coiled wires running from under the cars cell compartment to a keyboard and screen on a wheeled cart. Fred, Ambers husband, wore baggy blue coveralls over his thin frame and studied the screen with his back to Barker.
  • Sallis followed Elvallon outside and stared curiously at the mounted men. They wore leather armor and carried a sword each. There were not many soldiers on Re Annan - everybody was supposed to help in the defense of their land - but the few employed on the island usually concerned themselves with hunting criminals.
  • These were close-fitting trousers like tights in modern times highlanders often wore trews, especially in winter.
  • Jason and I arrived in Indianapolis later that night. I was familiar with the area and knew exactly where to go. We drove down a dark street known for its prostitutes. There they were: two girls leaning against a graffiti-covered wall. They wore the usual plain white aura of humans. They both came out on the sidewalk, chattering to each other as they watched us approach. They were gearing up to do their jobs. The blonde wore a smile as real as her bleached hair. The brunette was trying to care. Both were barely dressed.
  • He was received, however, as usual by Donna Isabel, who, though she could not help remarking that he wore a handsomer dress than usual, said nothing whatever which might lead him to suppose that she saw in him the least improvement. He tried to talk, but in vain; not a word of sense could he produce. Then he tried to look unutterable things, but he only grinned and squinted horribly, till he frightened the young lady out of her senses, and made her suppose that he was thoroughly bent on going into a fit. Although he did not suspect the cause, he had the wit to discover that he had not made a favourable impression, and returned to his quarters disappointed and not a little angry with his ill success. Pedro Pacheco could only advise him to try again. He might have acted a more friendly part if he had said "Give it up." Don Lobo did try again, and with the like ill success.
  • When the lady had thus informed me of her sister's fate, she began making an apology for the trouble she had given me, as well as the danger into which she might imprudently have thrown me, by engaging my services in pursuit of a ravisher, without recollecting what I had told her, that an affair of honour had been the occasion of my flight. Her excuses were couched in such flattering terms, as to convert her very oversight into an obligation. As rest was desirable for me after my journey, she conducted me into the saloon, where we sat down together. She wore an undress gown of white taffety with black stripes, and a little hat of the same materials with black feathers; which gave me reason to suppose that she might be a widow. But she looked so young, that I scarcely knew what to think of it.
  • When he'd finished drinking, he began folding up his hat. It was a special hat. He rarely wore it. When it wasn't being used for panhandling he folded it up and inserted it inside his coat where it magically disappeared leaving no lumps or bulges. "So you don't believe in destiny?"
  • "That's right." The passenger car's interior was like the train in The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, only in color: seats of plush green velvet, heavy drapes by the windows, walls paneled in red oak. Happy people in Sunday clothes waited to depart. Men had moustaches that waggled in easy grins above their cigars. Women carried parasols and wore long dresses. The conductor looked like Captain Kangaroo with his plump belly and his white walrus moustache. He talked to a tiny old woman with sugar-white hair coiled on her head who wore square wire-rimmed glasses with lenses no bigger than cough drops, and no less thick.
  • In society, however, he deported himself as a man of the world, and a gentleman. He had not contracted any of the noisy brusqueness sometimes acquired at sea; on the contrary, his manners were remarkably easy, quiet, and even polished. He was in person about the middle size, and somewhat strongly formed -- his countenance was marked with the lines of thought, and on the whole wore an expression of gravity and melancholy. Being, however, as I have said, a man of perfect breeding, as well as of good family and in affluent circumstances, he had, of course, ready access to the best society of Dublin without the necessity of any other credentials.
  • Percy Douglas was a fine-looking man, "wid a chest on him an' well hung--a fine fee-gure of a man," as O'Donohoo pronounced it. He was tall and erect, he dressed well, wore small side-whiskers, had an eagle nose, and looked like an aristocrat. Like many of his type, who start sometimes as billiard-markers and suddenly become hotel managers in Australia, nothing was known of his past. Jack Mitchell reckoned, by the way he treated his employees and spoke to workmen, that he was the educated son of an English farmer--gone wrong and sent out to Australia. Someone called him "Lord Douglas," and the nickname caught on.
  • TWENTY-THREE HORSEMEN WERE GALLOPING into the plaza. The beasts they rode were magnificent, their saddles and bridles were heavily chased with silver, their cloaks were of the finest materials, and they wore hats with plumes, as if this was somewhat of a dress affair and they wished the world to know it. Each man sat straight and proud in his saddle, his blade at his side, and every blade had a jeweled hilt, being at once serviceable and a rich ornament.
  • Stark recognized the captain. There were others, four of them, young, old, intermediate, annoyed at being hauled away from their beds and their gaming tables at this hour. The sixth man wore the jewelled cuirass of a noble. He had a nice, a kind face. Grey hair, mild eyes, soft cheeks. A fine man, but ludicrous in the trappings of a soldier.
  • Looking down, he saw that the crowd was composed largely of families. Many small children rode their fathers' shoulders, to see better. Most of the people wore brown or gray, the colorless clothes of the poorer folk. Here and there in the crowd blossomed the bright red or blue of men and ladies of means.
  • Mrs. Sanders, his mother, wore a pink bathrobe over a bleach-stained t-shirt and a pair of faded navy sweatpants that were probably older than Todd. Her mouth opened and worked, trying to make some sort of pathetic explanation, but Todd wasnt through, not by a long shot.
  • Upon further inspection of his condition, the coach was shocked. He no longer wore his uniform. Instead, he sported freshly pressed shirt and slacks. He glanced down at his feet. His old pair of baseball spikes were replaced by the comfortable leather of highly polished brown capped-toes. He looked around for a moment, paused, and then took it all in. Sarge then said his next thought out loud. He chuckled to himself and shook his head slightly.
  • Godfreys two bodyguards and part time leg breakers, Ronnie and Daniel, were on either side of the frail man like bookends. Godfrey wore his trademark sunglasses and all three men sported tailored silk suits.
  • When he'd arrived at his room in the Ana Hotel, fresh from detox, clothes had been waiting for him in the closet. Some anonymous Foxglove employee had done their job exceptionally well. Everything fitted exactly. Not only that, but the styles were right. They were precisely him. He never wore jeans. Chinos were as casual as he got. Nor did he like teeshirts. He felt more comfortable in slightly smarter clothes, somewhere on the crossover line between work and play. He couldn't remember when he'd first started to dress this way, or why. Perhaps it was a side-effect of having to wear a uniform or just part of the psychological quirkiness that had turned him towards security work in the first place. He'd be the last person able to answer that question. Even as a drunk he'd been relatively well-dressed. Filthy most of the time, and higher than a frightened skunk, but not casual. Twice he'd found suits in the dumpsters and worn them till they'd fallen apart. That was how he'd got his street-name: Gent, short for gentleman.
  • Luckily he wore his helmet this time because she smacked him hard enough to knock his head off. He held out a set of wands in his hands, even as she began kicking him mercilessly. If his gift worked, it sure took longer than he hoped as she got out her aggressions on him. Finally, tired, she snatched the bundle and tried them out.
  • For the rest, in the intervals of their endless prayers, and still more endless contemplations, they were husbandmen, cultivating the soil, which was fertile at the foot of the mountain, and tending their herd of yaks. Thus they wore away their blameless lives until at last they died of old age, and, as they believed--and who shall say that they were wrong--the eternal round repeated itself elsewhere.
  • Rordan noticed the lanterns not by the stage had been dimmed way down. A young mengan woman?a berserker?sat on a stool onstage. She wore songster clothes and a brand new rider jacket. The jacket had buttons on the inside. She tuned her guitar and made small talk with the crowd in front.
  • At the Wolf's first move the buckskin threw up his head, and, with ears cocked forward, studied the shifting blurred shadow. Perhaps it was the scent of his master's clothes which the Wolf wore that agitated his mind, that cast him to wondering whether his master was moving about; or, perhaps as animals instinctively have a nervous dread of a vicious man he distrusted the stranger; perhaps, in the dim uncertain light, his prairie dread came back to him and he thought it a wolf that had crept into camp. He took a step forward; then another, shaking his head irritably. A vibration trembled along the picket line that now lay across Carney's foot and he stirred restlessly.
  • That, replied Miss Judy, "is what we call the Great Mystery Sound. We hear it off and on, but no one has ever been able to explain what causes it. Our 'diving ghost,' we call it. Father wore himself to a frazzle the first year we were here, trying to find out what it was. He used to sit up nights and watch, but although he often heard it he never could see anything that could produce the sound. Some people about here have told us that that sound has been heard for years and they say that there is an old legend connected with it to the effect that many years ago an Indian girl, pursued by an unwelcome suitor, jumped off this bluff and drowned herself to escape him, and that ever since that occurrence this strange sound has been noticeable. Of course, the people who tell the legend say that the ghost of the persecuted maiden haunts the scene of the tragedy at intervals and repeats the performance. Whatever it is, we have never been able to account for the sound naturally, and always refer to it as the Great Mystery Sound."
  • The burst of energy she used to get there wore thin, and emotions overwhelmed her. Grief and anger flared high. Deep-seated fears and regrets were merciless in their assault. Leaning to one side, her knees buckled. Mother Gwendolin stepped in front of her and reached out to catch her. Catrin hit the ground hard, and she wondered a moment that Mother Gwendolin had failed to catch her.
  • Bacon and Dudley were dressed exactly alike, and rather in the costume of the preceding, than of the present reign; the latter not yet having made its way to Jamestown. They wore doublets of scarlet velvet, with large loose sleeves slashed up the front; the collar covered by a falling band of the richest point lace, with a vandyke edging. Their breeches were of white silk, and fringed at the bottom, where they united with their silk stockings, amidst a profusion of ribands and ornaments of lace. Their shoes were ornamented over the buckle straps, with white bridal roses wrought in silk. Hanging gallantly upon one shoulder, they wore the short and graceful blue cloak of the period: not in such a manner, however, as to conceal in any degree the gay appearance of the costume which it completed, but so as to be thrown aside and resumed at a moment's notice. This latter article being light and graceful, and worn more for ornament than use, was always thrown aside for the military buff coat on warlike occasions.
  • What they were not expecting under any circumstance was the back door that they had been eyeing for almost two hours to suddenly fly open and slam against the side of the building. They also were at a loss as to how they should react when Sarge Safran stepped through the threshold holding a baseball bat in front of him. He wore a bow tie, a pork pie hat, and clenched a fat stogie between his teeth. A cloud of smoke shot from his mouth when he spoke.
  • Judging from the representations of figures on their jars, the people in those days wore their hair in little plaits round the head. Heads of llamas sculptured in stone or else modelled in earthenware were used as vessels.
  • Sylvia's flaxen head was resolutely shaken. She no longer wore her hair in two tight pigtails, but in almost as closely bound braids wound in a circle about her face. Her complexion was still colorless and her eyes nondescript, but Sylvia's square chin and her resolute expression often made persons take a second look at her. It was seldom that one saw so much character in so young a girl.
  • Cowering under the blows of a tall, swarthy woman was a small girl, so fragile as to appear almost elfin. The woman wore the garb of a gipsy, and the presence of some squalid tents and tethered horses showed our young friends at once that it was a gipsy encampment upon which they had happened.
  • Harvey was stirring a black coffee, it was refreshing after the 18 hours they'd spent dragon riding. At first it was brilliant, a real thrill, however, soon the excitement wore off. Harvey had now decided it would've been much better if they'd managed to find a ship from somewhere.
  • Virginia set herself the task of watching for any slightest development of the man's influence over the girl. She saw Florrie almost daily, either at the hotel to which Florrie had acquired the habit of coming in the cool of the afternoons or at the Engle home. And for the sake of her little friend, and at the same time for Elmer's sake, she threw the two youngsters together as much as possible. They quarrelled rather a good deal, criticised each other with startling frankness, and grew to be better friends than either realized. Elmer was a vaquero now, as he explained whenever need be or opportunity arose, wore chaps, a knotted handkerchief about a throat which daily grew more brown, spurs as large and noisy as were to be encountered on San Juan's street, and his right hip pocket bulged. None of the details escaped Florrie's eyes . . . he called her "Fluff" now and she nicknamed him "Black Bill" . . . and she never failed to refer to them mockingly.
  • Hawksworth pushed his way incredulously back through the milling crowd of infantry and mounted cavalry, feeling as though the world had collapsed. All around him Rajputs were eating handfuls of opium, combing their hair, embracing in farewell. Many had already put on their khaftan, the quilted vest they wore under their armor. He wondered how long it would be before they became drunk with opium and began killing each other.
  • Late the next evening, I dressed in a fur-lined coat, a gift that Mediera had sent me through the post from Barriershire. It was expensive to send letters, and I couldnt imagine how much it had cost her to send the coat. I also wore a white wool hat pulled tight over my hair that I had pulled back into a messy knot. My leather satchel that held the salt, stones and scarf, rested against my shoulder. As I waited for Cedric, I saw the moon looming large and bright from my bedroom window, and I felt grateful that it would be in the sky to light our way tonight.
  • A new Widow had arrived four days before. The Widows were high-born women whose husbands were dead and children grown. No longer useful to their families, they often chose, or were forced, to retire to the Women's Retreat House. They had rooms on the upper floor, poor compared to the mansions and castles they came from, but comfortable by the standards of this place. They prayed with the Sisters and most of them worked in the embroidery room making robes and hangings for castles and churches. They wore the same grey dress as the Sisters, although their veils were black.
  • Diane wore no ornament, but her long red-gold hair, hanging in ringlets to her shoulders, adorned her more gloriously than any jewelry might have. Her eyes, neither blue nor brown, were a mixture, a catlike green. Her face had always been fine-boned; now months of fasting had put shadows in her cheeks that made her look like an angel on a cathedral pillar.
  • "Good old Peterson!" remarked Billy. "He was a dandy scrapper himself in the old days when he wore the blue. I'll bet he's rooting for us every day."
  • Their ordinary rags were covered with layers of misfit clothing out of the store, while many of them wore several hats, and others had extra pairs of shoes hanging around their necks.
  • I pulled one to me and spooned the eggs onto it. I offered Anna a biscuit with honey, which she took, moving off my lap to kneel on the bench so she could reach the table better. She wore a simple, undyed, linen dress, little boots, and cloak of her own. Her hair stuck out all over her head in a curly mass that wed tamed with a head band. She also wore something that bore only a passing resemblance to a diaper. Shed peed in the chamber pot earlier, as shed started waking dry more and more often at home, but I wasnt holding my breath about her being potty trained in a day. If we stayed here very long, it was I, I suspected, who was going to be trained, not her.
  • Left once more in charge of Pompey, the half breed flew into a rage and muttered all sorts of imprecations against those who had outwitted him. Then, as the day wore on, he calmed down, and tried to bribe the coloured man into giving him something to eat and to drink.
  • A pair of teenage guys came over. The gangly one wore a loyalty shirt Rordan didnt recognize and the shorter, raggedy dressed one had cut all the hair off the sides of his head.
  • He was a pleasant looking man, with iron-gray hair and beard, and wore white linen. He might have been a banker. The California held all kinds of Forty-niners.
  • Some of the natives wore feathers in their hair, and all had fish bones thrust through the cartilage of the nose, which gave them a ferocious aspect. Even young boys wore sticks in the same fashion. The women were attired in petticoats of white tapa cloth, which hung down in strips from a girdle round their waists.
  • The day wore on and they saw nothing but the wide-spreading brown veldt, with no sign of the great river, no mountain ridge or other object familiar to Ingleborough during his travels through the country.
  • Now the witch-hag who wore Swanhild's loveliness stood upon the cliffs of Straumey and tossed her white arms towards the north.
  • A tall, dark Spaniard was the captain's companion, and he might have been an official or an impostor in the skipper's pay. It was impossible to judge, though he wore something purporting to be a uniform.
  • The stars and the moon filled Baree with a yearning for this something. The distant sounds impinged upon him his great aloneness. And instinct told him that only by questing could he find. It was not so much Kazan and Gray Wolf that he missed now--not so much motherhood and home as it was companionship. Now that he had fought the wolfish rage out of him in his battle with Oohoomisew, the dog part of him had come into its own again--the lovable half of him, the part that wanted to snuggle up near something that was alive and friendly, small odds whether it wore feathers or fur, was clawed or hoofed.
  • "Thirty-two years ago, far north in the country of Nen Thakka, there was a woman known as the Holy Witch. She came from nowhere and left to nowhere. And she wore a bronze torc. She had the power to heal wounds, like the Shanallar and the Great Sage. Her wisdom and foresight came just in time to prevent the country being embroiled in a civil war, and she saved the Queen from assassination by her own niece.
  • Dave spotted her immediately. Her shoulder length blonde hair was pushed back by a large pair of sunglasses. She wore a short, strapless red cocktail dress that accentuated every luscious curve. It was a little over the top, even for Grand Cayman, but she looked like a woman who could fall in love with a bank balance. He hoped it would be his. All he needed now was a pickup line. Right on cue his phone chirped. He pulled it phone from his pocket.
  • Now there was something about the poise of Rodriguez' young head which gave him an air not unlike that which the King himself sometimes wore when he went courting. It suited his noble sword and his merry plume. When la Garda saw him they were all politeness at once, and invited him to see the hanging, for which Rodriguez thanked them with amplest courtesy.
  • In the evening the hunters returned, having enjoyed good sport, and being literally loaded with game; indeed, they had as much as four men could possibly carry. Top wore a necklace of teal and Jup wreaths of snipe round his body.
  • "Good move. Okay, let's get in close to that door," Aiden instructed the rest, while Pace picked up a nearby rock and hefted it, testing its weight. Colt took the lead, keeping low as he moved over the wall, while Aiden followed just behind, trying to keep as quiet as possible. The chain shirts the two men wore did not make this easy, however, and even with cloaks and clothing baffling the noise a little, it seemed like every little movement was loud enough to call the attention of the guards. Fortunately, the snow underfoot was dry and soft, and muffled their footfalls quite effectively.
  • As he came up, a bell in a little cross-crowned tower began to ring slowly. The carriage stood in front of a low red brick house, set directly on the street; a silent crowd pressed about the entrance. There was a hush within. He pushed his way along the banquette to the steps. A young nun, in a brown serge robe, kept guard at the door. She wore a wreath of white artificial roses above her long coarse veil. Something in his face appealed to her, and she found a place for him in the little convent chapel.
  • Uncle Les had put on a fresh pair of shorts for the trip, and wore a sky-blue, buttoned, short-sleeved shirt. They were straight from the packet and still had the fold lines on them to prove itprobably the odd pin and slip of cardboard still in the collar as well. He looked quite neat, for him, although it seemed like the buttons might pop from around his belly at any moment.
  • "You bet your gum boots," said Poleon. "Dey're mos' so t'ick as de summer dey kill Johnnie Platt on de Porcupine." Both men wore gauntleted gloves of caribou-skin and head harnesses of mosquito- netting stretched over globelike frames of thin steel bands, which they slipped on over their hats after the manner of divers' helmets, for without protection of some kind the insects would have made travel impossible once the Yukon breezes were left behind or once the trail dipped from the high divides where there was no moss.
  • I noticed all women, from babies to elderly wore earrings, very much like in peru.
  • They were crossing the ice on snowshoes, Hal noted, wondering how easy they would be to make with the resources available. The trolls were heading directly for the boulders now; their leader, a great troll who stood a head higher than the rest and wore a necklace of skulls, was directing them to search among the rocks. The dogs snarled, and pawed at the gravel.
  • They lit Jains lantern and walked down the steps. A tunnel wound away from the steps. There were shelves carved into the walls on which skeletons lay with whatever effects those who survived them had seen fit to leave. As the company walked they found that for every four of these there was an archway leading into a large chamber. The first of these belonged to a heap of bones laid out on a stone table. He wore rings on the fingers of both hands and a sword had been reverently placed on his chest. Joff waved Jain closer with the light so that he could read the inscription at the base of the table. "Cosmus, King of Harkness, Husband to . . ."
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