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"And you'd rather have your singing ruined than part for a moment with a scrap of your physical influence, of the influence that comes from your beauty, not your talent your face, not your soul. Viola, you're just the same." "Lady Holme," she said. "P'sh! Why?" "My little husband's fussy." "And much you care if he is." "Oh, yes, I do.
The daughter was taking her coffee and rolls up stairs in bed. "P'sh! I don't like it!" declared Harry Cresswell, tossing the letter back to his father. "I tell you, it is a damned Yankee trick." He was a man of thirty-five, smooth and white, slight, well-bred and masterful. His father, St.
The drab frontage was similarly streaked; dust and rain together had set a crust upon the windows, and tufts of dark mossy grass again flourished in the gutter-pipes beneath the eaves. Surveying this desolation, Captain Jemmy uttered a grunt and Captain John a "p'sh!" They fumbled in their pockets, drew out their two letters, and moved to the blistered front-door.
"P'sh! give me your towel." He snatched it from the barber's arm and mopped away the blood and lather from his jaw. "Mistress Salt a widow? When? How?" "I thought, maybe, your honour would know about it." "Don't think. Roderick Salt dead? Tell me this instant, or "
He gazed across the sandbanks upon the blue leagues of sea, and rubbed his fingers softly up and down the unshaven side of his face. "H'm," he said, and then "p'sh!" and then "p'sh!" again; and, as if this settled it, readjusted his wig and hat and set off down the road faster than ever.
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