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Updated: May 19, 2025
"Wasting your time on me and helping me to forget." "Forget what?" "Never mind," he said, as he wheeled himself away. When Mavis got back to Mrs Budd's, she found a bustle of preparation afoot. Mrs Budd was running up and downstairs, carrying clean linen with all her wonted energy; whilst Hannah, her sour-faced assistant, perspired about the house with dustpan and brushes.
At any rate the sheriff and his deputies shifted meaningly in their saddles and came up sour-faced and grim, and with their guns out and pointing at the group. "Don't go making any foolish play, boys," the sheriff warned. "We don't want trouble we aren't looking for any. But we ain't taking any chances."
The Marquis of Castrillon, meanwhile, was pirouetting sublimely before the long mirror in his dressing-room, while his valet, a sour-faced individual, looked on in great but gloomy interest. The Marquis was superbly dressed in a Louis Seize costume an exact reproduction of the one worn by that monarch on his wedding-day and he presented a very fine figure.
They not only make the mind better, but they help the body to keep well and will prepare the way for success in life later. Nobody wants a grumbling clerk or a sour-faced housekeeper. =Parts of the Body work without Orders from the Brain.= A snake with its brain crushed will still squirm and a chicken with its head cut off jumps about.
His father had compelled him to marry her, the richest heiress in the world, whose dowry had been larger than the collected treasure of a dozen queens; and as he thought of the sharp features of that insignificant, sour-faced, and unspeakably pretentious creature, he shuddered with aversion. He had banished her, and then had her murdered.
Into the gaol Mr Cargrim was admitted with certain solemnity by a sour-faced footman whose milk of human kindness had turned acid in the thunderstorms of Mrs Pansey's spite. This engaging Cerberus conducted the chaplain into a large and sepulchral drawing-room in which the good lady and Miss Norsham were partaking of afternoon tea.
"I call it a shame," declared an indignant young woman, gripping tighter the hand of her little child, the daughter of a young butcher of twenty-three years of age. "Poor lamb!" another motherly voice said. "She ought to be ashamed of herself money, I suppose," sneered Ellen Banner, a sour-faced shopkeeper's daughter, who had taught in Sunday school for twenty years and was still single.
His father had compelled him to marry her, the richest heiress in the world, whose dowry had been larger than the collected treasure of a dozen queens; and as he thought of the sharp features of that insignificant, sour-faced, and unspeakably pretentious creature, he shuddered with aversion. He had banished her, and then had her murdered.
However, the backbone of the trouble was M. de Grammont." "And who may he be?" "He's a cousin of the house. He and M. le Comte are as thick as thieves. Before we came to Paris they lodged together. So when M. le Comte came here he brought M. de Grammont. Dare I speak ill of Monsieur's cousin, Félix? For I would say, at the risk of a broken head, that he is a sour-faced churl. You cannot deny it.
He caught up a mirror and looked at it reversed; he put in a bold accent or two; fumed over the lack of brilliancy in some colour he had bought the day before; and ended in a fresh burst of satisfaction. By Jove, it was good! Lord Findon had been evidently 'bowled over' by it Cuningham too. As for that sour-faced fellow, Watson, what did it matter what he thought? It must succeed!
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