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Mr Markham leaned back, and put a hand up to his inner breast-pocket it is uncertain whether for his cigar-case, or for some leaflet relating to the Hands Across. 'Take care, sir! said the third officer sharply. 'That stanchion He called too late. The hand as it touched the breast-pocket, shot up and clawed at the air.
And then one night at the Assembly Rooms, after the dancing was over and we gay fellows were all together, up gets Waterpark, he was a little tipsy, my dear, and by gad I can hear him speak now, with that brogue of his. 'Boys, he says, 'it's no use your trying for her any more, for by God I've won her. And out of his breast-pocket he pulls a little knot of blue ribbon.
Keenly relishing the sense of his own intimate knowledge, Mahony touched the breast-pocket in which Polly's letters lay he often carried them out with him to a little hill, on which a single old blue-gum had been left standing; its scraggy top-knot of leaves drooped and swayed in the wind, like the few long straggling hairs on an old man's head.
"But we don't say it out loud, for fear of seeming to parade our religious convictions. We hate cant in our Community." "I cordially agree with the Community, Amelius. But, my good fellow, have you really no friend to welcome you when you get to London?" Amelius answered the question mysteriously. "Wait a little!" he said and took a letter from the breast-pocket of his coat. Mr.
Then he came round to my side of the table and stood over me again. "'If nothing else will satisfy you that you are entirely misinterpreting my motives, he said, 'and that I haven't an idea of blaming you in the matter read this. "He took a paper from the breast-pocket of his coat, and spread it open under my eyes. It was the Narrative of Armadale's Dream.
With lithe, catlike softness, the youth Crau had followed them up the hillside, padding noiselessly in the shadows of the pines and olives. Crouching behind a tree, he felt in his breast-pocket and drew out a small package which he quietly unwrapped from its foldings. Then he waited his moment with every muscle tensed for action. The night wind was chill.
"You're a bold fellow," said Hardyman, with a sudden change from anger to irony. "I'll do the lady justice. I'll look at my pocketbook." He put his hand into the breast-pocket of his coat; he searched his other pockets; he turned over the objects on his writing-table. The book was gone. Moody watched him with a feeling of despair. "Oh! Mr. Hardyman, don't say you have lost your pocketbook!"
"Have you the flageolet with you?" he asked, hastily. "In course I has. Never goes nowheres without it," said the seaman, drawing the little instrument from his breast-pocket. "Go then, make your bow to the Queen, and give her a tune. You know she's quite in love with your pipe or yourself and has been asking me about it already.
The plain and stolid men came in just then. They brought Mr. Spinney through the side door. The unhappy conspirator, jostled by his body-guard, was near collapse. He was now traitor to both sides. Circumstances hemmed him in. But more than he feared the recriminations of Luke Presson and his associates, he feared the papers in the breast-pocket of Varden Waymouth.
"The horrid wretch!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms about his neck and kissing him. "I'm so glad they didn't break your nose." "Are you really?" he asked, and as he read the truth in her eyes a weight was rolled from his soul. He showed her the little lead officer with the plume, which he always carried as a mascot in his breast-pocket, and also the two hazing photographs which kept it company.
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