And so on.
Richard was not at his best this evening.

You might have seen Mrs.
Westlake abandon her attentive position, and lean back rather wearily; you might have seen a covert smile on a few of the more intelligent faces.

It was awkward for Mutimer to be praising moderation in a movement directed against capital, and this was not exactly the audience for eulogies of Great Britain at the expense of other countries.

The applause when the orator seated himself was anything but hearty.

Richard knew it, and inwardly cursed Mr.Westlake for taking the wind out of his sails.
Very different was the scene in the meeting-room behind the coffee-shop.
There, upon Comrade Roodhouse's harangue, followed a debate more stirring than any on the records of the Islington and Hoxton branch.