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All the literati drew round the captain in a circle, to enjoy the spectacle, though the honest old mariner contrived to throw out such volumes of vapour as to keep them at a safe distance. His four demure-looking neighbours got behind the barrier of smoke, where they deemed themselves entrenched against the assaults of sentimental petticoats, for a time, at least. "Pray, Mr.

At the close of one of our joint debates, in the southern part of the district, he was greeted by a demure-looking individual with the salutation, "How are you, Judge?" "My dear sir," exclaimed the regular candidate, grasping the interrogator warmly by the hand, "how are you, and how is the old lady?"

It was answered by a demure-looking waiter, with a face like a parroquet. "Does Monsieur please to require anything?" "Require anything!" I exclaimed, in the best French I could muster. "I have been robbed!" "Robbed, Monsieur?" "Yes, of my watch and purse!" "Tiens! Of a watch and purse?" repeated the parroquet, lifting his eyebrows with an air of well-bred surprise. "C'est drôle." "Droll!"

"Not exactly," Clement answered, smiling, and quite delighted to find such an unexpected vein of grave pleasantry about the demure-looking church-dignitary; for the Deacon asked his question without moving a muscle, and took no cognizance whatever of the young man's tone and smile. First-class humorists are, as is well known, remarkable for the immovable solemnity of their features.

"Which one, Monsieur?" demanded an old, demure-looking quartermaster, who was charged with that duty, and who was never known to laugh; "the captain will remember we came into port under the drapeau of Monsieur Jean Bull." "Bien hoist the drapeau of Monsieur Jean Bull again. We must brazen it out, now we have put on the mask.

We go from the particular to the general, and only draw broad conclusions when we have collected our facts in detail. But excuse me, I see a friend," she broke off hastily, seizing the chance to escape. A little later Beth saw that the demure-looking little person in the princess bonnet was taking her leave.

When one of these pampered, sleek, 'demure-looking, spring-nailed, velvet-pawed, green-eyed' critics makes his King and Country parties to this sort of sport literary, you have not much chance of escaping out of his clutches in a whole skin. Treachery becomes a principle with them, and mischief a conscience, that is, a livelihood.

While she was looking at him a lady was announced, a most demure-looking little person in a grey costume, and a small, close-fitting princess bonnet, tied under her chin, and trimmed with a big Alsatian bow in front. She entered smiling slightly, and she continued to smile, as if she had set the smile on her lips as she put the bonnet on her head, to complete her costume.

In the morning the consulting-room blinds were still down, and the house looked as deserted as ever. He waited till lunch, and then he went out boldly and pulled the doctor’s bell. The same little maid appeared, but she evidently did not recognise the fashionable patient who disappeared so mysteriously in the demure-looking clergyman at the door. “Is Dr Twiddel at home?”

At the door of the house sat the good old dame's cat, a decent demure-looking personage, that seemed to scan every body that passed, to criticise their dress, and now and then to stretch her neck, and look out with sudden curiosity, to see what was going on at the other end of the street; but if by chance any idle vagabond dog came by, and offered to be uncivil hoity-toity! how she would bristle up, and growl, and spit, and strike out her paws! she was as indignant as ever was an ancient and ugly spinster, on the approach of some graceless profligate.