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One of the whey-faced clerks said with the supercilious asperity characteristic of gnat-brained headquarters attaches: "Get out of here!" as if I had been a stray cur wandering in in search of a bone lunch. I wanted to feed the fellow to a pile-driver.
"You butted in and tried to spy like yore dad, did you?" the raucous voice continued. "Thought you could sell us out and git away with it. Here's where you learn different. Jack Beaudry was a man, anyhow, and we got him. You're nothing but a pink-ear, a whey-faced baby without guts to stand the gaff. Well, you've come to the end of yore trail. Beg, you skunk!"
J. A. Dunlop Proudfoot, Advocate. The Proudfoots must be rich, for no advocate could look to have much business in so remote a quarter; and John hated them for their wealth and for their name, and for the sake of the house they desecrated with their presence. He remembered a Proudfoot he had seen at school, not known: a little, whey-faced urchin, the despicable member of some lower class.
Pope's house, young madam, an' that be his garden too, t'other side o' that wall. He be but a feeble shrivelled up whey-faced little gentleman, thin as a thread paper an' not much taller than you yourself. I'm told as he baint forty, but lor, he might be ninety by his looks. We folk in the village don't see much of him an' I doubt if he wants to see us." "Gracious! Why is that?
"Harkye! you d d son of a gun!" cried Mr. Gordon, abruptly turning from Dartmore, after a hearty shake of the hand, to the man at the counter "Harkye! give me change for this half sovereign, and be d d to you and then tip us a double gill of your best; you whey-faced, liverdrenched, pence-griping, belly-griping, paupercheating, sleepy-souled Arismanes of bad spirits.
Whilst still he hesitated, Marzak, who had also risen, caught him by the arm and poured into his ear hot, urgent arguments enjoining him to yield to Sakr-el-Bahr's demand. "It is the sure way," he cried insistently. "Shall all be jeopardized for the sake of that whey-faced daughter of perdition?
"Door, indeed! you poor whey-faced drab, you dare to say the word door to me, a respectable woman, as Mister Tripes here knows me well, and have a score against me behind that there wery door as you disgraces, and as it's you as ought to be t'other side, you ought; for it's out of the streets as you come, well I knows, an' say another word, and I'll take that there bonnet off of your head, and chuck it into them streets and you arter it.
Catherine Linton's "little romance" is altogether another affair. The world of Heathcliff and Catherine Earnshaw is a world of spiritual affinities, of spiritual contacts and recoils where love begets and bears love, and hate is begotten of hate and born of shame. Even Linton Heathcliff, that "whey-faced, whining wretch", that physical degenerate, demonstrates the higher law.
"Set me down as Thopas Trednock, tailor, at the sign of the Pressing Iron, in Cornhill," the whey-faced man replied, in his shrill tones, amid the derisive laughter of the assemblage. "Thopas Trednock, tailor good!" the knight repeated, as he wrote the name down. "You will be an excellent witness, Master Trednock.
Andrew Lang was there at the same time; but, he explains, the future Tusitala, "the lover of children, the teller of tales, giver of counsel, and dreams, a wonder, a world's delight," and he did not meet there, for Louis was "but a little whey-faced urchin, the despicable member of some lower class," when his future brother author was "an elderly boy of seventeen."
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