A cool breeze lifted the damp hair at her temples and ruffled the hem of her full skirt.
Her eyes went to the bedroom, and she walked the opposite direction to the laundry room and ruffled through Dusty's neatly folded laundry.
She marveled at the soft crunch of gravel beneath her shoes.
His eyes were white then black then changed from every color in between, his brown hair of medium length and wavy, ruffled by the sea breeze.
A stunning man with a large smile dressed in white stood a few feet away, his brown hair ruffled by the sea breeze.
A temporary sensation entered her mind, as if a breeze ruffled through her thoughts.
She jumped, unaware she'd ruffled him despite the calm exterior.
Kiera took her usual chair, and Romas ruffled her hair as he passed her.
He ruffled through some pieces.
"Thank you, Dusty," the youth said and ruffled the boy's hair.
A sudden gust of wind ruffled the leaves of the trees, creating a sound much like the surf.
He pushed the hood back first and shivered at the breeze that ruffled his dark hair.
Despite her agitation, she ruffled the eighteen-year-old's hair fondly.
A cool breeze ruffled her curls.
Might have put on a ruffled shirt."
For this reason every piece of pressed glass-ware, as soon as it is liberated from the mould, is exposed to a sharp heat in a small subsidiary furnace in order that the ruffled surface may be removed by melting.
Small pieces of cork put in the jar will be found to dance about during the continuance of the sound; water or spirits of wine poured into the glass will, under the same circumstances, exhibit a ruffled surface.
In 1791 a revival began at Bala; and this, strange to say, a few months after the Bala Association had been ruffled by the proceedings which led to the expulsion of Peter Williams from the Connexion, in order to prevent him from selling John Canne's Bible among the Methodists, because of some Sabellian marginal notes.
"Oh, I don't know," purred Eureka, smoothing her ruffled fur with her paw; "we didn't manage to hurt anybody, and nobody managed to hurt us."
Denisov, with sparkling eyes and ruffled hair, sat at the clavichord striking chords with his short fingers, his legs thrown back and his eyes rolling as he sang, with his small, husky, but true voice, some verses called "Enchantress," which he had composed, and to which he was trying to fit music: