When he spoke, his deep, beautifully modulated voice held everyone under its spell, and he spoke modestly and gaily like a brave gentleman.

I bent forward, as far as I was able, and scanned his face.
Never once, during the whole ceremony, did the tell-tale twitch appear at the corners of his lips.

He stood there the incarnation of the modern knights sans fear and sans reproach.
I cannot tell which of the two, he or Sir Anthony, the more moved my wondering admiration.

Each exhibited a glorious defiance.
You may say that Boyce, receiving in his debonair fashion the encomiums of the man whom he had wronged, was merely exhibiting the familiar callousness of the criminal.

If you do, I throw up my brief.