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Tommy merely clicked his tongue at her every time she emerged from a hiding-place; or, if the rather worried butler or nervous under-footman passed hurriedly through the hall, sent showers of kisses after them, and then went into fits of ventriloquial laughter.
She stood firm. 'Come, she said at length, 'which is it to be the revolver, marriage, or the money? She ominously clicked the trigger, 'I give you five minutes. It was five minutes to eleven. The clock ticked on while the two still stood in their absurdly tragic attitudes he still hesitating, she with her pistol in line with the brain that laid the golden verse.
He paused before a large, white frame-house which stood on a kind of banked terrace; the house was shaded by a number of evergreens, and was shut in from the street by a picket-fence. "This must be it," he said, as he clicked the latch of the gate. Patterson, as one of the large retail dry-goods merchants of the town, was of course a "prominent citizen"; his residence was easy enough to find.
On Saturday on Saturday " Something clicked in her throat, and she raised her hand to it with an uneasy gesture, one that those who surrounded her had grown curiously familiar with of late. Madeleine drew away from her at this address, the whole fair calm of her countenance troubled like a placid pool by the casting of a stone.
She is the most timid little soul I ever met." Just then the front gate clicked and two girls strolled up the red-brick walk, their light organdie dresses peeping out from the folds of their long capes. "Here come Nora and Jessica," cried Grace excitedly, running to the door to meet her friends. Mrs. Harlowe smiled. In spite of Grace's sixteen years she was still her little girl.
Her teeth clicked as always when her temper was roused, the reason being that thirty years ago the arts and accomplishments of dentistry had not reached so fine a perfection as to-day can show. She had, moreover, bought a cheap set. Her teeth clicked. She began: "The moment your mother comes I give her notice.
I s'pose it must be very different up in Green River, where you come from?" "Yes, I guess 'tis," said Mrs. Field. The front gate clicked, and Mrs. Maxwell peered cautiously around a lace curtain. Two ladies in their best black dresses came up the walk, stepping with a pleasant ceremony. "There's Mis' Isaac Robbins an' Ann 'Liza White," Mrs. Maxwell whispered agitatedly.
Then, following another brief pause, a switch clicked; and streaming from the hood of a portable desk-lamp, a pool of light flooded the heart of a vast place of shadows, an apartment whose doors and windows alike were cloaked with heavy draperies that hung from floor to ceiling in long and shining folds.
And the snow-white curtains behind each row of panes were also Ann's. The driver clicked his "For Hire" sign into the upright position and chugged away to join the flow of traffic which thumped orchestrally past the end of the Square. Tabs climbed the three low steps separately; he had been used to take them at a bound. He tried to climb them slowly as though from choice, and not from necessity.
German machine-gun bullets were "cracking" in the air above us, but Pete didn't mind, and neither did we. When the body was lowered into the grave, the flag having been removed, we clicked our heels together, and came to the salute. I left before the grave was filled in. I could not bear to see the dirt thrown on the blanket-covered face of my comrade.
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