Generally I let them rest.' Could she have had the temerity?
Jane marvelled at herself.
She doubted that the weighty pair of tears had dropped for the country.
Captain Con would have shed them over Erin, and many of them.

Captain Philip's tone was too plain and positive: he would be a most practical unhistrionic rebel.
'You would countenance a revolt ?' she said, striking at that extreme to elicit the favourable answer her tones angled for.

And it was instantly: 'Not in arms.' He tried an explanation by likening the dissension to a wrangle in a civilised family over an unjust division of property.
And here, as he was marking the case with some nicety and difficulty, an itinerant barrel-organ crashed its tragic tale of music put to torture at the gate.

It yelled of London to Jane, throttled the spirits of the woods, threw a smoke over the country sky, befouled the pure air she loved.
The instrument was one of the number which are packed to suit all English tastes and may be taken for a rough sample of the jumble of them, where a danceless quadrille-tune succeeds a suicidal Operatic melody and is followed by the weariful hymn, whose last drawl pert polka kicks aside.

Thus does the poor Savoyard compel a rich people to pay for their wealth.