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Updated: May 24, 2025
The man in corduroys had lit his pipe and was bending once more to his task. "Well, dadda," said Billie amiably, "how are the crops?" The man straightened himself. He was a nice-looking man of middle age, with the kind eyes of a friendly dog. He smiled genially, and started to put his pipe away. Billie stopped him. "Don't stop smoking on my account," she said. "I like it.
Where could those books be found? He had almost reached the door, when his eye fell on the two collecting-boxes. With a sudden thought he paused, drew a key from the pocket of his corduroys, and unlocked his own the Parson's box. A sovereign lay within. He picked up the coin and considered it, a dark flush growing on his face. Parson Jack had a temper, though few guessed it.
He slightly shrugged his big shoulders. "Why shouldn't you take me for a keeper? You crossed the Atlantic with a fourth-rate looking fellow separated from you by barriers of wood and iron. You came upon him tramping over a nobleman's estate in shabby corduroys and gaiters, with a gun over his shoulder and a scowl on his ugly face.
He wore a gray flannel shirt and a pair of well worn brown corduroys, tucked into the tops of a pair of ordinary shoes. Field was younger, probably about Enoch's own age. He was as tall as Mackey but much heavier. He was smooth shaven and ruddy of skin, with a heavy thatch of curly black hair and fine brown eyes. His clothing was a replica of his partner's.
"Hello, who's this you like?" David's hearty voice burst upon them. Phœbe turned and saw him standing in the sunlight of the open door. The thought flashed upon her, "How big and strong he is!" He wore brown corduroys, a blue chambray shirt slightly open at the throat, heavy shoes.
I'd say, we suffer and we strive Not less nor more as men than boys; With grizzled beards at forty-five, As erst at twelve, in corduroys. And if, in time of sacred youth, We learned at home to love and pray, Pray heaven, that early love and truth May never wholly pass away.
They always hated him and called him Lord Pendennis, because he did not wear corduroys as they did, and rode a horse, and gave himself the airs of a buck. And if the truth must be told, it was Mrs. Portman herself who was the chief narrator of the story of Pen's loves.
Different parts of his life flashed at him, all out of order and irrelevantly. How near, too, had he just passed to the Ketterings! Cleo's father rose before him again with his greying hair and his good face, bent, aproned, and in corduroys, just as he was wont to stand in the Dover workshop.
"Put your clothes outside the bathroom door, and I'll see to drying them for you." "Yes, please. I'll need them tomorrow. I don't want to spoil my new corduroys. And, Mother, see if you can make Dan change. He's too wet and steamy to sit at the table with. Tell him if anybody has to go out after supper, I'll go." Mrs. Wheeler hurried down stairs.
There was blood on his mouth and his hand. Hastily he scrambled to his feet. Shefford saw this man's amaze and rage change to shame. He was tall and rather stout; he had a smooth tanned face, soft of outline, with a weak chin; his eyes were dark. The look of him and his corduroys and his soft shoes gave Shefford an impression that he was not a man who worked hard.
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