Word: sort
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Dates: during 1880-1889
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Bless me! here we have a case that would stir the blood of age to mutiny, (or something of that sort,)-dark hints of fraudulent returns at Memorial, exorbitant charges, special meetings, and all that, which anywhere else would call for investigation by the citizens' association, at least. But what do these Harvard men do? Do they hold a mass-meeting, and have speeches and resolutions and reports, et cetera? No, indeed! On the contrary they tamely submit; they leave Memorial in abject fear, and deliver over its fair precincts into the hands of the tyrants? This is the reward...
...bright red scarf, over a short round-jacket; hands without mittens, that he kept in his pockets as well as he could. The boy made slow progress, being beaten back by sudden gusts of wind and snow; slowly gaining after each rebuff of this sort, he at last reached the store. His hands were by this time so benumbed that he could not turn the doorknob; so he stood outside and looked through the glass into the warm room, rapping once or twice to draw the attention of its inmates. No one paid the slightest attention to his signals: perhaps...
...directly in front of me, there was the largest, most luminous, and withal the most ravishing pair of dark-blue eyes that were ever given a girl to do mischief with. When I say large eyes, I don't mean your overgrown, beetling, codfish eyes; nothing of the sort; for though these were large, they were deep-set and full of dreamy meditation and potential merriment, and bespoke a deal of misery in store for some poor fellow...
...soon became aware that that radiant duad of blueness was looking in my direction. In short, our eyes met; they looked at each other; no - not exactly at each other; that would have been improper. They looked at a sort of middle point lying half-way on the straight line between them, the focal point where their visual rays converged. This of course was very harmless. Pretty soon they smiled, both pairs at the same time; but not at each other, only at the focal point. This certainly was unobjectionable. Unobjectionable? It was more; it was delightful...
...like to study faces, particularly feminine faces of about eighteen. Accordingly, while to conceal my designs I pretended to be looking intently at the fireplace, and remarked that I thought open fires much more cheerful than kerosene stoves, I was in reality directing my gaze in a sort of circuitous way upon her features...