Theron pricked up his ears at the sound of his voice.

There was an anti-Pierce note in it, so to speak, which it did him good to hear.

The consciousness of sympathy began on the instant to inspire him with courage.
"I know some people SAY they are," Brother Pierce guardedly retorted "but I've summered an' wintered both kinds, an' I hold to it they're different.

I grant ye, the Eyetalians ARE some given to jabbin' knives into each other, but they never git up strikes, an' they don't grumble about wages.

Why, look at the way they live--jest some weeds an' yarbs dug up on the roadside, an' stewed in a kettle with a piece o' fat the size o' your finger, an' a loaf o' bread, an' they're happy as a king.
There's some sense in THAT; but the Irish, they've got to have meat an' potatoes an' butter jest as if--as if--" "As if they'd b'en used to 'em at home," put in Mr.Winch, to help his colleague out.
The lawyer ostentatiously drew up his chair to the desk, and began turning over the leaves of his biggest book.