Unmarked6698
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
At this Geoffrey says something under his breath about Paul Rodney that he ought not to say, looking the while at Nicholas with a certain light in his blue eyes that means not only admiration but affection. "That's right, then," says Mona, quite pleased at her success. "It won't be her fault; but of course her people will object, which amounts to the same thing. She can't go against her people, you know.".
453 people found this
review helpful
kez_ h (Kez_h)
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
“He’s been pushin’ up the daisies fer thirty years, I ain’t goin’ to warble to please no tombstun.” Moses swung a ponderous foot to give emphasis to his decision.I tried logging in using my phone number and I
was supposed to get a verification code text,but didn't
get it. I clicked resend a couple time, tried the "call
me instead" option twice but didn't get a call
either. the trouble shooting had no info on if the call
me instead fails.There was
The pianist sat easily at the piano and began the Moskowski selection that had failed to create the expected furore in the afternoon. A cadenza that shivered down the spine like spray from a glacial torrent wakened the room. Then he plunged into the first theme. His small audience listened spell-bound. Betty’s eyes followed the fingers that leaped over the ivory keys like white flame. A subtle current began to play in the room. Steadily it grew in power. Magnetism to the nth degree was being generated. A tremendous chord brought the music to a close and the pianist to his feet. Something in Nell’s glance inspired him. He whirled about the room whistling and imitating some of the cadenzas and other passages from the selection just played. He gesticulated wildly with his hands, the passion for dramatic music oozing from his pores.
658 people found this
review helpful
Conrad
"What is it?" she says, fearfully, and then, "Your coat is wet—I feel it. Oh Geoffrey, look at your shirt. It is blood!" Her tone is full of horror. "What have they done to you?" she says, pitifully. "You are hurt, wounded!" "An' what brought him home, the murdherin' scamp," says Miss Bridget, with more vehemence than politeness, "instid of stayin' wid ye to see ye came to no harm?" "Shall we ask the Carsons to our dance, Nicholas?" asks his mother, at this moment. On the instant all is forgotten,—chagrin, shame, shoes and stockings, everything! Springing to her little naked feet, she goes to him, and, raising her hand, presses her handkerchief against the ugly stain..
298 people found this
review helpful