A sad smile gleamed faintly from beneath the black veil, and flickered about his mouth, glimmering
as he disappeared.
I must own that we found it far prettier than anything we had known in Southern Ohio, which we were so fond of and so loath to leave, and as I look back it still seems to me one of the prettiest little places I have ever known, with its white wooden houses, glimmering
in the dark of its elms and maples, and their silent gardens beside each, and the silent, grass- bordered, sandy streets between them.
A fifth week passed, and a sixth, during which he lived and toiled as a machine, with just a spark of something more in him, just a glimmering
bit of soul, that compelled him, at each week-end, to scorch off the hundred and forty miles.
It seems as if I had looked at everything, hitherto, in broad daylight, or else in the ruddy light of a cheerful fire, glimmering
and dancing through a room.
Whenever that look appeared in her wild, bright, deeply black eyes, it invested her with a strange remoteness and intangibility: it was as if she were hovering in the air, and might vanish, like a glimmering
light that comes we know not whence and goes we know not whither.
Later - rarely much before midnight, but then for a considerable vigil - he watched with his glimmering
light; moving slowly, holding it high, playing it far, rejoicing above all, as much as he might, in open vistas, reaches of communication between rooms and by passages; the long straight chance or show, as he would have called it, for the revelation he pretended to invite.
What happened afterward, with one glimmering
exception, I had to be told.
Bright and glimmering
as the stars above their heads, lonely and motionless as they, it seemed to claim some kindred with the eternal lamps of Heaven, and to burn in fellowship with them.
After drinking some hot coffee, like an Arctic explorer setting off on a sledge journey towards the North Pole, I would go ashore and roll shivering in a tramcar into the very heart of the town, past clean-faced houses, past thousands of brass knockers upon a thousand painted doors glimmering
behind rows of trees of the pavement species, leafless, gaunt, seemingly dead for ever.