Unmarked6698
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
A red squirrel came scampering across the open sod before them, pausing as he sensed their presence, then springing to the trunk of a sapling the better to look them over. Mrs. Wilson stood with frowning gaze fastened on the door. She was a tall, angular woman of some forty years, heavy of features, as she was when occasion demanded it, heavy of hand. Tiny fret-lines marred a face which under less trying conditions of life might have been winsome, but tonight the lips of the generous mouth were tightly compressed and the rise and fall of the bosom beneath the low cut flannel gown hinted of a volcano that would ere long erupt to the confusion of somebody. "But why should she lay her egg in the cedar bird's nest; hasn't she a nest of her own?" asked Lou..
453 people found this
review helpful
kez_ h (Kez_h)
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
And Mona, rousing herself from her unsatisfactory reverie, draws her breath quickly and then moves homeward.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
"Eh?" says Mrs. Geoffrey.
658 people found this
review helpful
Conrad
And still, it must be true. Immediately his manner towards Scroggie underwent a change. All the antipathy that a woods-born boy can feel toward a city-bred one vanished suddenly at the intelligence imparted to him. It was the look of true comradeship, the smile that always won him confidence and fidelity, that he gave Jim now, as he whispered: "Any time you want'a borrie my shot-gun, Jim, jest let me know." Billy's mind worked with lightning speed. "Oh no, sir, you can do without a daisy from me," she answered, though her cheeks were warm with one of those sudden blushes which seemed to glow as though to prove that her lovely bloom was entirely due to nature and not to art, as the suspicious eye might fancy or the cynical eye desire. "Ain't it jest?" agreed Maurice. "Say, Bill, there ain't no law ag'in shootin' robbers is there—store-robbers, I mean?".
298 people found this
review helpful