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It was an unpleasant voice this a snappy, vixenish, sharp-toned voice, which appeared to come from an individual of rather diminutive size, though it was only his bare outline that was visible in the darkness beneath the trees. "Nasty little beggar," thought Henri; while Jules, now released, save that one of the German officers still gripped him by the sleeve, stood close to his comrade.
From these so tragic ruins there seemed to exhale a great desolation, beneath the deep, green sky. Susanna and Caesar drew near the Forum. In the opaque light of dusk the Forum had the air of a cemetery. Two lighted windows were shining in the high dark wall of the Tabularium, and sharp-toned bells were beginning to ring.
Incoherent snatches of sentences, fragments of words and phrases spoken by Brentwick and the mechanician, were flung back past his ears by the rushing wind. Then, their pace continuing steadily to abate, he heard Brentwick fling at the man a sharp-toned and querulously impatient question: What was the trouble? His reply came in a single word, not distinguishable.
Once or twice he shouted out a sharp-toned inquiry as to whether he knew where he was going, and that they were taking the wrong way altogether; to all of which Sir Norman deigned not the slightest reply, but rode more and more recklessly on.
Of the praises of gods and heroes, there is not now extant a more beautiful composition, than the 12th Ode of the first book of Horace: Quem virum aut heroa lyra vel acri Tibia sumes celebrare, Clio? Quem Deum? cujus recinet jocosa Nomen imago, Aut in umbrosis Heliconis oris, etc. What man, what hero, on the tuneful lyre, Or sharp-toned flute, will Clio choose to raise, Deathless, to fame?
It was an outgoing wave of such life and animation as is apparent in the flight of a swarm of cell-dwellers, giving out a loud and sharp-toned hum from the action of their wings as they soar over the blooming heather and the "bright consummate flowers."
I find myself wanting to use the adjective over and over again when I speak of her. Such a desolate, loveless life! Always a drunken father, she had never known any other; always a sharp-toned, weary-eyed, disheartened mother, who shut her tenderness for the child within herself, as one who could not afford to show it. Then Dirk, the one brother, going astray almost as soon as he was born.
The children were lovely a dark-haired girl of six or more, a fairer boy of five. When Lush incautiously expressed some surprise at her having brought the children, she said, with a sharp-toned intonation "Did you suppose I should come wandering about here by myself? Why should I not bring all four if I liked?" "Oh, certainly," said Lush, with his usual fluent nonchalance.
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