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Updated: June 14, 2025
He wore a coarse but neat suit of boy's clothes, one inch too small in every dimension, a white turn-down collar, and a black neckerchief fastidiously tied; and carried a slouched cloth cap in his hand, with which he slapped his knees alternately, after he had taken a seat, and continued to do so without cessation. "Well, Bog," said Mr.
Prompt's face was a perfect picture of edge-tools; and with his easy air generally, his hands stowed away in the ample pockets of his nether garments; his passion for the Byronic made known by the extravagant roll of a turn-down shirt collar and his bushy hair thrown back on a veiny and narrow forehead that seemed to have been cut away to fit his hat, had an appearance easily imagined by those who have witnessed in New Hampshire the general make-up of an itinerant stump orator.
Instead she met a smiling youth of twenty-nine, rather gaunt and hollow-eyed, but none the less attractive for that. Eugene, with Angela's approval, still affected a loose, flowing tie, a soft turn-down collar, brown corduroy suits as a rule, the coat cut with a belt, shooting jacket fashion, a black iron ring of very curious design upon one of his fingers, and a soft hat.
The streets of East Burgen were rather crowded, and Jem Agar with elbows well in and the whip at the regulation angle across old Lasher's face, who could not help squinting at the pendant thong shouted to the country-folk in a new voice of mighty deep register. He carried his boyish head stiffly, and had for ever discarded a turn-down collar.
Spelling is not appropriate or inappropriate, elegant or inelegant; it is right or wrong. We do not greatly blame a man for turn-down collars when the vogue is erect; nor, in these liberal days, for theological eccentricity; but we esteem him "Nithing" and an outcast if he but drop a "p" from opportunity. It is not an anecdote, but a scandal, if we say a man cannot spell his own name.
Her dark serge dress with its white turn-down collar and armlets worn these last for the sake of her embroidery work gave her a dedicated conventual look. She was paler than of old; the eyes, though beautiful and luminous, were no longer young, and lines were fast deepening in the cheeks and chin, with their round childish moulding.
"How I was going to get me a job up-town here, where I could get in with a decent crowd of girls, and not be known for the kind down there that you and all of 'em knew I I wasn't." "Sure we knew." "Yes, but what good does that do me? Can a dirty little yellow-haired snip over in the Fancy Fruits give me the once-over and a turn-down? She can. And why? Because I ain't certified.
And I'll admit, after they gave me the turn-down in the trouble three years ago, that I've sulked in my tent and made them come to see me." He caressed her and called her his armful of dearest woman, although she detected his eye roving impatiently to the phonograph with its unfinished letter.
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