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Turning to me, Fielding said in a low voice: "Do you really think that queer-looking specimen knows more about cooking than old Robbins? Would it be safe to let him try and roast the turkey? It would never do to have it spoiled, you know."
The leaves surrounding the flowers are of the shape of the jessamine, and to these are added tendrils and queer-looking bunches of seed-vessels.
I did not care any longer for the perfume, and went away and sat very straight and stiff at Mrs. Morris' feet. The lady's eyes still followed me. "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Morris," she said, "but that is a very queer-looking dog you have there." "Yes," said Mrs. Morris, quietly; "he is not a handsome dog." "And he is a new one, isn't he?" said Mrs. Montague. "Yes." "And that makes."
"After all, I don't see much harm in Hampton," said my lively guide as we threaded our way between the carriages, "though, to be sure, there are some very queer-looking people on the course. I could tell you strange stories of most of them, Miss Coventry, only you wouldn't believe me.
An indifferent amusement was what George felt when his mother, with a gentle emphasis, interrupted his interchange of courtesies with the nieces to present him to the queer-looking duck their uncle. This emphasis of Isabel's, though slight, enabled George to perceive that she considered the queer-looking duck a person of some importance; but it was far from enabling him to understand why.
Afghans, with tall, conical, gold-threaded head-dresses, converted into monster turbans by winding around them yards and yards of white or white-and-blue cloth, three feet of which is left dangling down the back; Beloochees in flowing gowns that were once white; Arabs in the striped mantles and peculiar headdress of their country; dervishes, mollahs, seyuds, and the whole fantastic array of queer-looking people living in Beerjand, travelling through, or visiting here to trade.
Hurrying to catch a certain car at a certain corner late one stormy night, I was suddenly arrested by the sight of a queer-looking bundle lying in a door-way. 'Bless my heart, it's a child! O John! I'm afraid he's frozen! I exclaimed to my brother, as we both bent over the bundle.
She always used a donkey for her climbings. She received me very cordially, saying, "I welcome you to my bicoque," and led me through a few badly furnished rooms with hay- stuffed sofas and hard, uncompromising chairs and queer-looking tables painted in red and green out on to the veranda, which commanded a magnificent view over the sea and the Esterel Mountains. I wish you could have seen her!
A queer-looking individual was slouching along with ax over his shoulder. "There's Charley," said Flo. "He'll show you." Then she whispered: "He's sort of dotty sometimes. A horse kicked him once. But mostly he's sensible." At Flo's call the fellow halted with a grin.
Anyhow, I wouldn't dance with one unless I had to." "Well, you'd better dance with your mother! I never saw anybody lovelier. How wonderfully they dance together!" "Who?" "Your mother and and the queer-looking duck," said Lucy. "I'm going to dance with him pretty soon." "I don't care so long as you don't give him one of the numbers that belong to me."
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