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It was not the former of these games that attracted Farnie. He was no pinger. Nor was he a pongster. But for billiards he had a decided taste, a genuine taste, not the pumped-up affectation sometimes displayed by boys of his age. Considering his age he was a remarkable player.
To one who has tried both, the wail of genuine physical anguish is easy distinguishable from the pumped-up ad misericordiam blubber. Harold's could clearly be recognised as belonging to the latter class. "Well, leggo of my ear then!" shrilled Harold, "and I'll tell you the solemn truth!" "Very well," agreed the curate, releasing him; "now go ahead, and don't lie more than you can help."
"What the deuce do you mean?" shouted old Blumenfield. "Don't yell at me across the footlights!" "I've a dashed good mind to come down and spank that little brute!" "What!" "A dashed good mind!" Old Blumenfield swelled like a pumped-up tyre. He got rounder than ever. "See here, mister I don't know your darn name !"
Fordyce's eulogium of female purity and his Rousseau-inspired appeals to women to make themselves all that is desirable in men's eyes, expressed in "lover-like phrases of pumped-up passion." The sensuous piety of his Sermons, suggestive of the erotic religious poems of the East, were particularly offensive to her. She next regrets that Dr.
"Don't touch me!" she whispered, shrinking sharply. There, in the compelling darkness, with danger waiting outside, they could not hide their souls from each other. "Colina," he whispered, "don't harden yourself against me to-night. I love you!" Her breath came quickly. She could not speak. Her anger against Ambrose was, at the best, a pumped-up affair.
There were bond issues now to float, stock to be marketed, contracts for supplies to be awarded, actual reservoirs and tanks to be built, and pipes to be laid. A pumped-up public opposition had to be smoothed over. In all this De Soto Sippens proved a trump.
I have come here, driven by your sad pleadings, to give you of my companionship, and my heart would be desolated if I thought that you still misjudged me." The beautiful voice shook, and I do not doubt that the violet eyes, glistening with pumped-up tears, were raised to Rust's face.
For my own part, I seldom read my Alpine author when he goes out of his gymnastic way to express admiration for the scenery. It is usually a pumped-up admiration. I am inclined to say that it is unnatural. I am almost ready to go so far as to say that it is wholly out of place. In my own humble opinion, very little above the snow-line is truly beautiful.
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