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And the little fellow quailed before her, his contrition beaten down under the storm of words that whistled about his ears without meaning, his small faculties disabled before this spectacle of wrath. Her fingers were closing and unclosing. They wanted a riding-switch; they wanted to grip this small body they had served and fondled, and to cut out what? The lie? Honoria hated a lie.
The brave little heart that had not quailed before the sentry's levelled musket a moment before now faltered and stood still, as the phantom with a slow and majestic tread moved toward her. She had only time to gain the shelter of a tree before the figure, majestically unconscious of her presence, passed slowly by.
But the thin man simply gazed at him mournfully and sat down. "Havin' been killed three times three times dead by violent means," he said, "I have no fear of death. Strike me I shall not resist." Even a bashi-bazouk must have quailed before that amazing declaration and that patient resignation to fate.
He had just been introduced to an appallingly statuesque lady of the name of Chester, Lady Ann Warblington's own maid, and his somewhat hazy recollections of Joan's lecture on below-stairs precedence had left him with the impression that this was his destined partner. He had frankly quailed at the prospect of being linked to so much aristocratic hauteur.
"I thought everyone knew that the Council of 1935 had changed it. Can it be that you have not yet heard?" "That won't do, Phoenix. You have also heard, of course, of the penalty for breaking the Rule, which you must suffer along with this human boy?" "Now, one moment, my dear Gryffon! I ah " "Death!" The Phoenix quailed, and David's legs went limp under him.
It was almost too much for the composure even of a man of the world. That this paralytic old fellow should express contempt for his virility was really the last thing in jests. Luckily he could not take it seriously. But suddenly he thought: 'What if he really has the power to stop my going there, and means to turn them against me! And his heart quailed.
He quailed before the Northern relentlessness, bred of kinship with the relentless Northern ice, that showed in those blue eyes. He could not fathom what was in the look that chilled him; his breed never could; but one thing he understood: He had met his master. He gave ground a foot, the knife still held out before him. He gave a yard.
If she did, she never quailed. Her head was within a few inches of his, his arms almost touching her. She saw but she never moved. If anything, she drew a little nearer. "Speak to me," she begged. "Give me some promise, some hope." He was absolutely speechless. A wave of reminiscence had carried him back into the study, face to face with an accuser.
She quailed, robbed of speech, before the causeless, vindictive, and infantile wrath of an old man who happened to be in a bad temper. She actually felt like a naughty schoolgirl before him. Such is the tremendous influence of lifelong habit, the irresistible power of the patria potestas when it has never been relaxed. Ezra Brunt saw in front of him only a cowering child.
"He claims to have a witness," Hull managed to get out from a dry throat. "A witness of what?" snapped the woman. "That that I was in Cunningham's rooms." For an instant the woman quailed. A spasm of fear flashed over her face and was gone. "He'll claim anything to get outa the hole he's in," she said dryly. Then, swiftly, her anger pounced on the Wyoming man. "You get outa my house.
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