An evening sky as clear
as that of the previous day was settling down all over the dim landscape, but toward the west it was now red rather than gold; there was scarcely any sound but the monotonous music of the river.
These people always clear
out when they hear of trouble, for they do not wish to be pestered by the police.
When in the course of his investigation he found the side exit and the winding stair down which Wilfred had rushed to find his brother dead, Father Brown ran not down but up, with the agility of a monkey, and his clear
voice came from an outer platform above.
You said on Chelsea Embankment, surely, that it was a bad concern, so we advised this clerk to clear
Lucy put up the neatest little rosebud mouth to be kissed; everything about her was neat,--her little round neck, with the row of coral beads; her little straight nose, not at all snubby; her little clear
eyebrows, rather darker than her curls, to match hazel eyes, which looked up with shy pleasure at Maggie, taller by the head, though scarcely a year older.
We burrowed down in the straw and curled up close together, watching the angry red die out of the west and the stars begin to shine in the clear
, windy sky.
Seated at my own table in clear
noonday light I saw a person whom, without my previous experience, I should have taken at the first blush for some housemaid who might have stayed at home to look after the place and who, availing herself of rare relief from observation and of the schoolroom table and my pens, ink, and paper, had applied herself to the considerable effort of a letter to her sweetheart.
Inward they turned upon the soul, especially when the still mild hours of eve came on; then, memory shot her crystals as the clear
ice most forms of noiseless twilights.
Imagine a tall, dignified, spiritual woman, whose clear
muslin cap shades waves of silvery hair, parted on a broad, clear
forehead, which overarches thoughtful gray eyes.
Suddenly, the martial note of a bugle cleaves the hum and murmur - clear
Then he went the rounds and saw, as he said, that all was clear
Thou whose injustice hath supplied the cause That makes me quit the weary life I loathe, As by this wounded bosom thou canst see How willingly thy victim I become, Let not my death, if haply worth a tear, Cloud the clear
heaven that dwells in thy bright eyes; I would not have thee expiate in aught The crime of having made my heart thy prey; But rather let thy laughter gaily ring And prove my death to be thy festival.