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Too late he perceived that Bixiou had been making him pose.
Winckel, a man with spectacles which carried thick lenses, "can you or one of your friends, perhaps, meet the boy and pose as this man Strong? Schmidt, you or Feldman had better go to Milwaukee and try to place the boy and get such information as you can. But do not let him suspect you." "I'll go," said Schmidt. "When is he due?" asked Mr. Winckel.
"Remember that every sunset makes it a day less. Do you think I want you here?" A bitter little laugh floated out into the starlight. Mrs. Travers heard Lingard move suddenly away from her side. She didn't change her pose by a hair's breadth. Presently she heard d'Alcacer coming out of the Cage. His cultivated voice asked half playfully: "Have you had a satisfactory conversation?
And she too got up, drawing her hand lightly along the keyboard of the piano. Her pose had a kind of defiance in it; her knit brows forbade Catherine to ask questions. Catherine stood irresolute. Should she throw herself on her sister, imploring her to speak, opening her own heart on the subject of this wild, unhappy fancy for a man who would never think again of the child he had played with?
Guess I'll make a clean breast of it, explain things to him and yield Liubka up to him like a comrade. But then, the fool won't go. Will raise a rumpus." "Or just to come upon the two of them together, somehow," he would ponder further, "in some decisive pose... to raise a noise, make a row... A noble gesture... a little money and... a getaway."
"Perhaps she admires it the diamonds at all events." "'My love in his attire doth show his wit!" quotes Marryatt, who likes to pose as a man of letters. "'When the age is in the wit is out," quotes Gower in his turn, who can never resist the longing to take the wind out of somebody's sails; "and, after all, The Everlasting is not a youth! No doubt his intellect is on the wane."
He gave his right arm to President Barbicane, and his left to J.T. Maston, more radiant than the midday sun, and nearly as ruddy. Ardan mounted the platform, from which his eyes extended over a forest of black hats. He did not seem in the least embarrassed; he did not pose; he was at home there, gay, familiar, and amiable.
Robert bowed, but it was not clear from his look that the rector's wife had made an impression. His general conception of his relative and patron Sir Mowbray who had been for many years the family black sheep was, indeed, so far removed from any notions of 'respect, that he had some difficulty in keeping his countenance under the lady's look and pose.
The tall one was humming a tune. De Launay recognized it with a shock of recollection. "Roll on, my little doggy!" Without a word he sat down also, in a duplicate of their pose. No one spoke for several minutes. Then, the shorter man said, casually, addressing his remarks to nobody in particular. "They's sure a lotta fresh pilgrims done hit this here town."
The crowds of Jerusalem hearing of His approach, and moved by curiosity to witness His triumphant entry into the City, flocked around the suburbs through which He would approach. At last the cry went up, "Here He comes!" and to their amazement and disgust the crowd saw Him riding quietly info the City mounted on an ass, without display, pretense or pose.
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