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The unfortunate animal was evidently near to the point of exhaustion from its violent efforts to break loose, and when I bent over it the poor thing looked up at me and whined piteously, as though appealing for help. It was an appeal that I could by no means resist; therefore, taking the creature in my hands, I tore it free by main force, parting thread after thread until all were severed.
The thought had scarcely passed through his mind when the old spaniel whined. This intelligent voice made Don Juan tremble. He believed that the dog understood him. "I knew that I could count on you, my son," said the dying man. "There, you shall be satisfied. I shall live, but without depriving you of a single day of your life." "He raves," said Don Juan to himself.
"Who was it then, son of a pig? Who was it?" "Mercy, mercy, my lord! I will tell the truth!" he whined as he twisted. "Gesù morto! Tell anything else and I cut thy liver out, hound!" swore the man who held him. "Ah, Dio! I will! I will! It was Silvestro who killed the Jew!" "You shall come with me to the Signor Sotto-Prefetto," said his holder. "There's a ducat for me in this affair."
One of the men held his hand to his ear, as if not understanding. They came on. They made no threatening gestures. Then Joe took his hand out of his pocket, the pistol Sally'd given him gripped tightly. "I mean that!" he said harshly. "Stand back!" One of the three spoke sharply. On that instant three snub-nosed pistols appeared. Bullets whined as the men hurtled forward.
Le Bourdon, however, did not permit his mastiff to run off wide, but, having the animal at perfect command, it was kept close to his own person. The two men first moved toward the grove of the Kitchen, much to Hive's discontent. The dog several times halted, and he whined, and growled, and otherwise manifested his great dislike to proceed in that direction.
Around and 'round and 'round they galloped, yelling, gibing, taunting, shooting so malignantly that the air was in a constant hum and swish. The lead whined and smacked, the shafts streaked and clattered "Are you sorry I shot the chief?" I asked. Amid the confusion my blood was coursing evenly, and I was not afraid. Of what avail was fear? "I'm glad, glad," she proclaimed.
Junior whined and insisted that he wanted b-bacon for his b-bunny, and the man hushed him querulously and asked Casey what the chances were for getting under way. Casey repacked a lightened bag, emptied the coffee grounds, shouldered his canteen and waded back to the cars and to the problem of red mud with an unbelievable quality of tenacity.
He was just an encumbrance, a nuisance who could not be got rid of and must remain a permanent handicap, always in the way. So thought Kirk morbidly as the automobile passed through the silent streets. It must be remembered that he had been extremely bored for a solid three hours, and was predisposed, consequently, to gloomy thoughts. Whatever his faults, Kirk rarely whined.
Little came up the rope hand over hand. Lady Caroline crouched in the farther side of the car. Fido, the poodle, whined. "Poor thing," said Lady Caroline, "it's hungry." "Do you wish to save the dog?" said Little. "Yes." "Give me your parasol." She handed Little a good-sized affair of lace and silk and whalebone. "Give me the dog."
The bell whirred again as he rang off. He came in quickly and bumped against Lenehan who was struggling up with the second tissue. Pardon, monsieur, Lenehan said, clutching him for an instant and making a grimace. My fault, Mr Bloom said, suffering his grip. Are you hurt? I'm in a hurry. Knee, Lenehan said. He made a comic face and whined, rubbing his knee: The accumulation of the anno Domini.
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