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"Without a doubt," he answered, putting on his hat and buttoning his befrogged surtout; "and should you," he continued, drawing on his gloves, "should you stare at me with those damned, impertinent fishes' eyes of yours, I should, most certainly, pull your nose for you on the spot, sir." "And I should as certainly throw you out of the window!" I nodded.
They were unconsciously using the past tense in discussing Siward, as though he were dead, either physically or socially. "In one way he was always a singularly decent man," mused O'Hara, walking toward the great marble vestibule and buttoning his overcoat. "How exactly do you mean?" "Oh, about women." "I believe it, too.
Concepcion, who perhaps knew more of this matter than any present, looked at Concha and shook his head. The priest was buttoning his cassock, and began to seek something in his pocket. 'Your breviary? whispered Concepcion; 'I saw it lying out there among the dead. 'It is a comfort to have one's duty clearly defined, said the General suddenly, in a clear voice.
Trifon Borissovitch was a thick-set, healthy peasant, of middle height, with a rather fat face. His expression was severe and uncompromising, especially with the peasants of Mokroe, but he had the power of assuming the most obsequious countenance, when he had an inkling that it was to his interest. He dressed in Russian style, with a shirt buttoning down on one side, and a full-skirted coat.
So covetous was his gaze, that the crew instinctively clutched their nether garments and looked to the buttoning of their coats as they passed him. He saw coats in the mainsail, and fashioned phantom trousers out of the flying jib, and towards the end began to babble of blue serges and mixed tweeds.
She stood at the front door, in blue linen gown, white knitted jersey and white sailor hat, buttoning her tan doeskin driving-gloves, a gallant, gravely valiant young creature, beautifully unbroken as yet by any real assent to the manifold foulness of life her faith in the nobility of human nature and human destiny still finely intact.
Fillmore was buttoning and unbuttoning his waistcoat. He had a hounded look. "Certainly, certainly," he replied in a tone of some feverishness. "I wish you girls would leave me to manage..." "Dippy!" said Miss Winch once more. "Telegraphic address: Tea-Pot, Matteawan." She swivelled round to Sally again. "Say, listen! This boy must be stopped.
She was wearing a wonderful black satin opera cloak with pale green lining, her maid had touched up her hair and wound a string of pearls around her neck. He watched her as she came slowly down the stairs, buttoning her gloves, and looking at him with eyebrows faintly raised to see him waiting there alone. After all, what folly!
A lilac pattern on a white ground, the sleeves and throat and the white hat tastefully trimmed with lilac and white lace; a nice sunshade to match. At that moment a knock came at the door. "All right, Teddy, wait a moment, my wife's not dressed yet. Do make haste, Esther." Esther stepped into the skirt so as not to ruffle her hair, and she was buttoning the bodice when little Mr. Blamy entered.
Perhaps that of her dear old friend. Perhaps ! The blood surged back to her brain and she mastered herself. "We have so little time," she panted. "I'll be ready in a minute." Before the horse was at the mounting-block she was awaiting him, buttoning her gloves, while she extended her foot for Bob to buckle her spur. She had put on her riding-skirt, but otherwise was as she had come to the door.
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