The wall, the floor, and the furniture, even to the bed itself, were
aflame with shimmering bits of color.
So I hasten to add that the mood was one of brief duration, and that no cold-water arguments were able to quench the fire which those eyes had set
aflame within me, no daylight philosophy had any power to dispel the dream of a face which was now my most precious possession, as I once more took up my stick and listlessly pursued my way to Yellowsands.
There was more than benevolence in this action; there was courage; the south was
aflame, and to assist, even on his death-bed, the father of so dangerous a Bonapartist as Dantes, was stigmatized as a crime.
Welland, who confided it to Newland Archer; who,
aflame at the outrage, appealed passionately and authoritatively to his mother; who, after a painful period of inward resistance and outward temporising, succumbed to his instances (as she always did), and immediately embracing his cause with an energy redoubled by her previous hesitations, put on her grey velvet bonnet and said: "I'll go and see Louisa van der Luyden."
It seemed to him, accustomed to the callous and hopeless appearance of a less happy tribe, that the faces of these people were all
aflame with the joy of the springtime.
He would have burned the "Sea Lyrics" on the spot, had his will been strong enough to set them
aflame. There was the engine-room, but the exertion of carrying them to the furnace was not worth while.
Her glance, the touch of her hand, set him
aflame. He kissed the palm of his hand where she had touched it, and went home, happy in the sense that he had got nearer to the attainment of his aims that evening than during the last two months.
Since the wagers were kisses, you can well imagine I went down on the first next dive with soul
aflame.
Goosal, who had brought with him some of the fiber bark torches, set a bundle of them
aflame. As they flared up, a wondrous sight was revealed to Tom Swift and his friends.
"Very well," said D'Artagnan, his eyes
aflame, "battle!
His hearers expected a story of how beside himself and all
aflame with excitement, he had flown like a storm at the square, cut his way in, slashed right and left, how his saber had tasted flesh and he had fallen exhausted, and so on.
Hannah Cox stood outside in her plain black dress, her hair wind-tossed, her eyes
aflame. She held the key in her fingers, and she looked in upon them.