category:Flight shooting


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    “Miss Iverson is dark, I should say? Yes, I thought so.” Image looked at the girl in the portrait, who looked back at him. She had adopted no coquettish pose, no drooping eyelids or heavenward gaze, but she looked straight out of the frame with her clear, fine eyes. And they seemed to Image to be asking innumerable questions of life. There was a suggestion, too, of eagerness about the mobile lips, as though they would open and presently shape the word “why?”
    Claudia looked at her. She was extraordinarily well preserved, even in the bright morning light. There were no lines to tell her age or mark character. But it was not a face that invited confidence, that would attract a child or make a precious miniature in any man’s heart.


    1.Gilbert went to see him out, and Image, rising, looked again at the photograph of him which his mother said was too severe. As Gilbert came back to the room he compared the original with the photograph. More than a presentable man, Gilbert Currey was distinctly good-looking. The brow was broad and high, and the hair grew thick and strongly. His eyes, which Image remembered in the baby had been blue like his mother’s, were now a darkish grey and the lids fell rather heavily over them. This, however, did not give any impression of sleepiness, rather that of self-sufficiency and reserve force. The nostrils of his well-shaped nose were somewhat wide, denoting his energy and driving power. The chin was rather too heavy, and had he not closed his mouth so firmly the lips would have been a trifle sensual. Above the medium height, he gave promise of being one day a heavy man if he did not exercise sufficiently, but now he was still well-proportioned. The two men were physically a great contrast, for Carey Image was always known as “little Carey Image,” though the diminutive indicated affection as well as size. He had the small build and fineness of the Japanese.
    2.It was his home, and Claudia was made to feel that though the wife of the sick man, she was an outsider. Gilbert’s moroseness had increased, and rank bitterness was in his heart. Sometimes Claudia fancied that he[333] looked at her with furious envy in his eyes as she came with her springy steps across the lawn to where he was stretched out under a big tree. He did not wish to see any of their friends—was it the same reason, envy of their health?—so that very few people came to the house. Sometimes Lady Currey made it plain that instead of tramping along the country lanes, which was her one solace—there were no golf-links near—Claudia ought to appear in the sedate, sunless drawing-room with its cabinets of valuable china, and make small talk for the wife of the vicar and the sister of the curate, and listen to genteel opinions on a variety of subjects—no one could say even the biggest were shirked—of which the exponents knew less than nothing.
    Put away

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