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" Bob was kneeling at the side of her chair, his hands clasped and uplifted in an agony of appeal that was supplemented by the awful groans. His face showed unspeakable terror and entreaty; the eyes were bursting from their sockets and were riveted on hers... "
Friday, the Thirteenth: A Novel - Pagina 143
de Thomas William Lawson - 1907 - 226 pagini
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Panic!: Markets, Crises, and Crowds in American Fiction

David A. Zimmerman - 2006 - 312 pagini
...breakdown, the discovery that commits Brownley to market warfare, makes this sentimental machinery plain: Bob was kneeling at the side of her chair, his hands...an approaching spectre of one whom he had murdered. . . . Beulah Sands was a dead woman; not dead in body, but in soul. . . . There still resounded through...
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