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Updated: May 11, 2025
Yes, dear cousin, tonight will decide my fate; and whatever happens to me, I pass through an ordeal by fire. There! not a word. I will hear nothing of the nature of comment or advice Let us chat and laugh together," she added, holding out a hand, which he kissed. "We will be like two grey-headed philosophers who have learned how to enjoy life to the last moment.
"'You d d grey-headed old traitor! roared out the Captain, 'the liquor has let the treason out.
In the streets full of shops I was once passing an ironmonger's when water was thrown over me as though by accident, and on one occasion someone darted out with a stick at me, while a fishmonger, a grey-headed old man, barred my way and said, looking at me angrily: "I am not sorry for you, you fool! It's your father I am sorry for."
"It is a bad thing this beating the police," said the grey-headed gentleman. "But what is the present state of affairs?" enquired Mr Berners. "Are the rioters put down?" "Not in the least," said Mr Egerton, "as I hear. They are encamped in the Bull Ring amid smoking ruins, and breathe nothing but havoc." "Well, I voted for taking the National Petition into consideration," said Mr Berners.
A couple of men and two or three boys soon hurried round, and Peter was relieved from his charge, and courteously led into the servants' hall by Momont, the grey-headed old butler and favourite servant of the Marquis, and Jacques Chapeau, the valet, groom, and confidential factotum of Larochejaquelin.
Falkland was neither willing to mortify me by a severe prohibition of speech, nor even perhaps to make me of so much consequence, as that prohibition might seem to imply. Though I was curious, it must not be supposed that I had the object of my enquiry for ever in my mind, or that my questions and innuendoes were perpetually regulated with the cunning of a grey-headed inquisitor.
A little later, when she sat down with the other guests to dine in a long room, dark with much black carved oak, she still had the dreamy sensation of returning to a life forgotten. The guests, however, were strangers. Mrs. Verdon, in a white silk gown embroidered with bunches of poppies, had never seemed less known. The grey-headed man with the rosy face was Mr.
For one last moment there gleamed in Graham his dream of empire, of kingship, with Helen by his side. It gleamed, and passed. A shrill bell rang. An agitated grey-headed man appeared from the room of the Ward Leaders. "It is all over," he cried. "What matters it now that we have Roehampton? The aeroplanes have been sighted at Boulogne!" "The Channel!" said the man in yellow. He calculated swiftly.
The burnished glow of gold, the chaste sheen of silver, the dance and sparkle of light in multitudinous gems, arrested his attention as he one evening perambulated the streets of a great city. He beheld a jeweller's shop. The grey-headed, spectacled lapidary sat at a bench within, sedulously polishing a streaked pebble by the light of a small lamp.
"Think on thy sins, Reginald Front-de-Boeuf," said the almost unearthly voice, "on rebellion, on rapine, on murder! Who stirred up the licentious John to war against his grey-headed father against his generous brother?" "Be thou fiend, priest, or devil," replied Front-de-Boeuf, "thou liest in thy throat!
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