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Updated: May 6, 2025
It makes as much of it as can be made, but with all its efforts its song is a very so-so affair, all its syllables beginning with z, and almost ending with it too. Yet, although it is not much of a songster, it is almost a sacred bird with me, in consequence of the associations connected with it.
I could hear my parents' footsteps as they went with Swann; and, when the rattle of the gate assured me that he had really gone, I crept to the window. Mamma was asking my father if he had thought the lobster good, and whether M. Swann had had some of the coffee-and-pistachio ice. "I thought it rather so-so," she was saying; "next time we shall have to try another flavour."
"Here, political crises seem of little account by the side of the turning wheel. This is where the world unbends and it is well that there should be such a place. Shall we see you at the Club or in the rooms later?" "Without a doubt," Mr. Simpson assented. "For what else does one live in Monte Carlo?" "How did you leave things in town?" Mr. Draconmeyer enquired. "So-so!" the Minister answered.
It is "The Storme," a play of Fletcher's; which is but so-so, methinks; only there is a most admirable dance at the end, of the ladies, in a military manner, which indeed did please me mightily.
It was a happy thought, sir, and it took root. 'It would seem, Mr Venus, observed Wegg, with a touch of distrust, 'that you are flush of friends? 'Pretty well, sir, that gentleman answered, in a tone of placid mystery. 'So-so, sir. Pretty well. 'However, said Wegg, after eyeing him with another touch of distrust, 'I wish you joy. One man spends his fortune in one way, and another in another.
If you'll be advised by me you'll keep a sharp eye upon Petawanaquat. There, I'll say no more. You know I'm not an alarmist. Good-bye." "Good-bye, old boy." "I say." "Well?" "It was an awfully bad shot, that last of mine." "It was," admitted Victor, with a laugh, "to miss a thing as big as a door at a hundred yards is only so-so." "No chance of improvement, I fear," said Ian, with a sigh.
"Nothing. Only when anybody's seen Esther, they always start asking about old Doc. Coombe. It gives them a kind of opening. Yes, that's the old Coombe place over there. The one with the fir trees and the big elm by the gate." "A pleasant house," said Callandar in a detached voice. "So-so. The old Doc. uster putter around considerable. But they say his widow isn't doing much to keep it up.
Once seated, habit asserted itself; and he attacked the boiled dinner with a ferocity which should have been exercised against Jethro. "I suppose the stores down to the capital is finer than ever, Mr. Bass," remarked Mrs. Northcutt. "So-so, Mis' Northcutt, so-so." "I was there ten years ago," remarked Mrs.
He was green, and let the boys about here jump him," and the rest of his sentence was confided to his hat, which he had removed to wipe his manly brow with his red bandana. I asked him who was the original proprietor. "His name war Fagg." I went to see him. He looked a little older and plainer. He had worked hard, he said, and was getting on "so-so."
In February he learned that it was Sir Thomas Lawrence who prevented the British Museum from subscribing to his work: "He considered the drawings so-so, and the engraving and colouring bad; when I remember how he praised these same drawings in my presence, I wonder that is all." The rudest man he met in England was the Earl of Kinnoul: "A small man with a face like the caricature of an owl."
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