Lycon passed his huge hand over his face; the muscles around his mouth quivered, and it was a moment237 ere he could mutter a few words which sounded as if he had taken too large a mouthful.
Periphas was a terrible spectacle; his brown cheeks were deeply flushed and his eyes flashed like a wildcats.
Instead of answering, Polycles turned to the people seated at the tables and called in a loud voice:Dunces of slaves! muttered Lamon, shaking his clenched hand towards the interior of the house. You have forgotten the garden. They have come upon us from the hill.
In beside them surged a privileged throng of near kin, every one calling over every one's head, "Good-by!" "Good-by!" "Here's your mother, Johnnie!" and, "Here's your wife, Achille!" Midmost went the Callenders, the Valcours, and Victorine, willy-nilly, topsy-turvy, swept away, smothering, twisting, laughing, stumbling, staggering, yet saved alive by that man of the moment Mandeville, until half-way down the shed and the long box-car train they brought up on a pile of ordnance stores and clung like drift in a flood. And at every twist and stagger Anna said in her heart a speech she had been saying over and over ever since the start from Callender House; a poor commonplace speech that must be spoken though she perished for shame of it; that must be darted out just at the right last instant if such an instant Heaven would only send: "I take back what I said last night and I'm glad you spoke as you did!"
Speak, luckless girl, speak! he said. What have you to tell?
This, he said, was a women's--a gentlewomen's--war.