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Here is one, stretching out a hind leg in a sustained cramp; another is convulsed with nervous twitchings; another scratches the earth in a kind of mechanical trance. One would say she was preparing a grave for herself. The saddest of all is an old warrior with mighty jowl and a face that bears the scars of a hundred fights. One eye has been lost in some long-forgotten encounter.

He was a big man in his shirt sleeves, wearing old riding breeches unbuttoned at the knees, and thick ploughman's boots. He had no leggings, and his fleshy calves were imperfectly covered with woollen socks. His face was large and pale, his neck bulged, and he had a gross unshaven jowl.

He knew the inquiry that was being asked, and its reply; he knew whose burly form it was that thrust itself the next minute in between him and his neighbor; every drop of blood in his body, every hair on his head, seemed to be cognizant that the man he hated most on earth was seated cheek by jowl with him that the first step in the road of retribution had been taken voluntarily by his victim himself.

Man entered gaily but Death gave no greeting, he sat with his jowl morosely over an ominous wine. "Come, come," said Man, "we have been antagonists long, and if I were losing yet I should not be surly." But Death remained unfriendly watching his bowl of wine and gave no word in answer.

An' there goes Zola an' Browning with a piece of Shakespeare runnin' neck an' neck, an' what's left of Anti-Christ makin' a bad last. An' there's Carlyle and Zola that cheek by jowl you can't tell 'em apart." Here the Elsinore lay down to starboard, and the water in the forecastle poured out against my legs and hips.

I am I, and you are you, with all my heart; but conceive how these lean propositions change and brighten when, instead of words, the actual you and I sit cheek by jowl, the spirit housed in the live body, and the very clothes uttering voices to corroborate the story in the face.

S. Behrman laboriously climbed to his saddle, panting, perspiring, mopping the roll of fat over his coat collar, and turned in after them, trotting along far in the rear, his great stomach and tremulous jowl shaking with the horse's gait. "What a day," he murmured. "What a day." Dyke's trail was fresh, and was followed as easily as if made on new-fallen snow.

Tyr leapt from the hearth, his eyes red as the fire, his fangs showing white in the black jowl, his neck ridged and bristling; and overleaping Rol, ramped at the door, barking furiously. Outside the door a clear mellow voice was calling. Tyr's bark made the words undistinguishable. No one offered to stir towards the door before Sweyn.

When supper was over and the servants were clearing away, Cromwell went to the window where the glass glowed overhead with his new arms and scrolls a blue coat with Cornish choughs and a rose on a fess between three rampant lions and stood there, a steady formidable figure, with his cropped head and great jowl, looking out on to the garden. When the men had gone he turned again to Ralph.

A brow the color of fresh butter and florid cheeks like a monk's jowl seemed scarcely big enough to contain his exuberant jubilation. Camusot had left his wife at home, and they were applauding Coralie to the skies.