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Updated: June 22, 2025
Formerly I had come to this pond adventurously, from time to time, in dark summer nights, with a companion, and making a fire close to the water's edge, which we thought attracted the fishes, we caught pouts with a bunch of worms strung on a thread; and when we had done, far in the night, threw the burning brands high into the air like sky-rockets, which, coming down into the pond, were quenched with a loud hissing, and we were suddenly groping in total darkness.
My wife gets impatient, smiles, pouts, kisses me, and asks for the scissors. Baby on his side tugs with all his might, biting his lips as he does so, and ends by asking my help. His look strives to penetrate the wrappers. All the signs of desire and expectation are stamped on his face.
"Tell me, that there maybe no misunderstanding." Wilfrid again tried to fix her. "A rosy rosy fresh bit of a mouth she's got! and pouts ut!" Wilfrid took her hand. "Answer me." "'Deed, and I'm modust, Mr. Wilfrud." "You do him the honour to be very fond of him. I am to believe that? Then you must consent to leave us at the end of a week.
He pouts around and won't say a word, and has lost all his love for me. Home will never be as it once was, for I will not give in and mind him in every little thing as if I were only a child," Nell had confided bitterly. "Don't Nell, don't talk that way. Austin is not pouting, as you think, but he is trying to help you see your mistake. He means right. You know that he does, Nell.
The much-vaunted Gibson Girl is a kind of de luxe edition of Shaw's Disagreeable Girl. The Gibson Girl lolls, loafs, pouts, weeps, talks back, lies in wait, dreams, eats, drinks, sleeps and yawns.
She had better ask her Aunt Juley! June turned to Mrs. Small, who sat upright in her chair, her hands clasped, her face covered with innumerable pouts. In answer to the girl's look she maintained a strange silence, and when she spoke it was to ask June whether she had worn night-socks up in those high hotels where it must be so cold of a night.
They are the sauciest and most mischievous of all fairies. Only stare at them a little, and they will mock you to your face with smiles and pouts, and will not go away as long as you stay. For they have no fear of you or any Earth People. They follow their streams right into towns and cities, under bridges and over dams. You are as likely to find one in your city park as in the Forest.
Wrenn admired the shy way in which, taking the tiniest of puffs, she kept drawing out her cigarette with little pouts and nose wriggles and pretended sneezes, but he felt a lofty gladness when she threw it away after a minute, declaring that she'd never smoke again, and that she was going to make all three of her companions stop smoking, "now that she knew how horrid and sneezy it was, so there!"
This, which is axiomatic among men, has been in past ages but partially true if the messenger was a woman. The world still wants to ask that a woman primarily be pretty and if she is not, the mob pouts and asks querulously, "What else are women for?"
Who is this fortunate person?" "Mrs. Appleton." "Mrs. Appleton!" Dick gulped at his coffee and stared at his wife in some perplexity. "Isn't she a well, for one thing, a good deal older than you?" "She'll be all the better guide," Lena retorted with one of her demure pouts. "You know she invited me to join the class she has gotten up for Swami Ram Juna. You needn't grin in that horrid way, Dick.
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