Before I could reply that he was my neighbor dinner was announced; wedging his tense arm imperatively undermine Tom Buchanan compelled me from the room as though he were moving a checker to another square.
Slenderly, languidly, …
four candles flickered on the table in the diminished wind.
“Why CANDLES?” objected Daisy, frowning.
…, sitting down at the table as if she were getting into bed.
Sometimes she and Miss Baker talked at once, unobtrusively and with a bantering inconsequence that was never quite chatter, that was as cool as their white dresseds and their impersonal eyes in the absence of all desire.
It was sharply different from the West where a n evening was hurried from phase to phase toward its close in a continually disappointed anticipation or else in sheer nervous dread of the moment itself.
I meant nothing in particular by this remark but it was taken up in an unexpected way.
infinitesimal hesitation
she whispered enthusiastically
For a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affection upon her glowing face; her voice compelled me forward breathlessly as I listened – then the glow faded, each light deserting her with lingering regret like children leaving a pleasant street at dusk.